The Final Rose
by afilmmefatale
Summary: (AU) On a dare, Michonne applies to be the next Bachelorette - and wins. Never one to back down from a challenge, she embarks on a journey to find her future husband among thirty-one eligible bachelors. She just never expected Rick, the host of the show and recent divorcee, to become the main contender for her heart. Rated M for adult language and situations and explicit content.
1. Chapter 1

Michonne poured another glass of rosé, enjoying the last bit of calm before the storm. In less than twelve hours, she would be meeting her future husband.

She sank into the plush couch and let the sultry voice of Lalah Hathaway melt away her anxiety. Being chosen as the Bachelorette was the most exciting - and nerve-wracking - thing she had ever done in her life. Her therapist was completely to blame.

Following a string of failed relationships, Michonne had decided to seek professional help, hoping to gain insight on why her relationships always ended in tears and dark chocolate binges. Her therapist had suggested she try something outside of her comfort zone. So, when her girlfriends plied her with wine and dared her to audition for _The Bachelorette_ , Michonne accepted.

Two months later, here she was lounging in an upscale hotel room on the brink of embarking on the most terrifying journey of her life. More than not finding a husband, Michonne feared making a fool of herself on national television. A career in civil defense litigation meant she couldn't afford to become a laughing stock.

A heavy knock on the hotel door disrupted her anxious thoughts. It was after eight o'clock and she wasn't expecting any visitors. She was also under strict orders to get her beauty sleep for tomorrow's shoot.

"Michonne, it's me," a voice said from the other side of the door. "Rick."

Michonne shot up from the couch. "Coming!" She rushed to the mirror to adjust her sloppy bun and smooth her eyebrows.

She opened the door to Rick holding a bag of popcorn and a bottle of merlot. "I come bearing gifts," he said, eyeing her black yoga pants and baggy Spelman t-shirt. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"I couldn't sleep even if I wanted to," Michonne said. She motioned for him to come in.

"The night before is always the hardest," Rick said, stepping into the room. "Once you meet the men, the nerves will subside. And with the ten-hour shoots, you'll sleep like a baby."

This was Rick's thirteenth year hosting the show. Michonne readily accepted his advice.

He handed Michonne a short stack of papers. "Finally got the rest of the bios," he said. "Sorry for the delay, the producers had trouble agreeing on the last five guys. I'm not to leave without your top and bottom three."

"I'm surprised you didn't just shoot me an email," Michonne said, though she was grateful for the company.

"Not a fan of special deliveries?" Rick quirked an eyebrow.

"lt's not that I don't appreciate surprises. I just like a little advance notice."

Rick cracked a smile. "I'll make a note of that." He made his way to the kitchen. "We'll need wine. Opener?"

"On the counter near the fridge."

Rick maneuvered through the kitchen with purpose, uncorking the wine and searching for glasses. Michonne liked the way his body moved in fitted black jeans and the way his back muscles stretched his denim button-down shirt.

Ever since he'd visited her hometown, she felt connected to him, as though they'd been friends for years. A few weeks prior, he'd come for a preliminary interview and ended up charming her entire family, including her Federal judge father. Her parents had been skeptical about the show and concerned over how Michonne would be portrayed as the first African-American Bachelorette. Rick had masterfully allayed their concerns, making them supporters in the end.

Michonne joined him in the kitchen, taking a seat at the island. She scoffed at the first bio. "'Internet Enthusiast'? Please tell me this man has an actual job."

Rick chuckled. "He's a columnist for a popular entertainment blog. Guess he thought 'Internet Enthusiast' would help him stand out."

"Well, it just earned him a spot in the bottom three."

Rick whistled. "You're the toughest Bachelorette to date."

He joined her at the island, balancing two glasses of wine and a bowl of popcorn. She recalled Rick had worked as a waiter in Beverly Hills before he'd gotten his big break as the host of the Bachelorette.

"I'm looking for a husband, not someone to increase my Instagram followers," Michonne said.

Rick laughed and reached for the popcorn at the same time as her. Their hands touched. Michonne glanced up to find Rick staring at her. He edged his hand away.

"Ladies first," Rick said with a half-smile, his eyes still glued on her.

"Such a gentleman," she joked, though his playful chivalry secretly turned her on. She found it refreshing that he was as much of a gentleman in person as he was on TV. Michonne found it difficult to doubt his sincerity, which was a big deal for a cynic like her.

"Hmm?" she asked, not having caught what he said because she was too focused on how sexy his lips looked when he talked.

"There are definitely a few wild cards – the producers need ratings. But I promise you, there really are some great candidates among the bunch. Our matchmakers are the best in the business."

Michonne flipped through the rest of the bios, taking notes on things she liked and disliked about each man. With no accompanying pictures, she could only judge the men by their responses to an in-depth list of personal questions.

The next song in her playlist started, Lalah Hathaway covering _Angel_ for a live audience. Michonne hummed along as she finished up her notes.

"Anita's better," Rick said.

Michonne shook her head. "Anita's a queen, but I can't agree with you on that one, even if you are from my hometown." She'd found out Rick had grown up only a few miles from her.

"We'll have to agree to disagree then." Rick flashed his thousand-watt smile, his blue eyes twinkling with mischief.

Michonne ignored the butterflies in her stomach, writing down her top and bottom three. She handed the list to Rick.

"Thanks," he said, examining the sheet. "We'll make sure to interview these six tomorrow." He paused. "Hmmph...interesting."

"What?" Michonne refilled her glass with wine, riding the oncoming buzz.

"Negan's in your top three. I didn't think you'd go for a jock."

Michonne was amused. "Former jock." Though, she wasn't about to admit she'd only dated athletes in college. "Based on his responses, he seems witty."

"Witty? He listed 'home plate' as the craziest place he's had sex."

"That's nothing compared to my response."

"Really? Which is what?"

"I plead the fifth." She refilled his glass. "Have some more wine."

Later, Michonne and Rick lounged on the couch, their feet propped up on the coffee table. She had expected Rick to call it a night hours ago, but he was still here and she wasn't about to ask him to leave.

"Why are you still single?" Rick asked, after a comfortable pause in their conversation.

"There are two things you should never ask a woman," Michonne said, "her age and why she's single."

"Come on, it's a compliment," Rick said, turning to face her. "I mean, you're smart, funny…beautiful. And you're not afraid to challenge yourself. You should have guys knocking down your door."

"Believe it or not, some men are intimidated by a woman who can speak three languages and isn't afraid to express her opinion. Especially a black woman."

"Those guys are idiots."

"Hence, why I'm still single."

"What are you really looking for in a man? And don't give me the canned responses you fed the producers." Rick leaned in. "What would a man have to do to sweep you off your feet?"

Michonne turned to face him. The interest in Rick's beautiful eyes made her heart skip a beat. "I'm a simple girl, it doesn't take much."

"I don't believe that."

"It's true. I just want a man who's confident, hard-working and loves me like there's no tomorrow. Simple."

"And what if he's got kids?."

"I love kids. So if he was everything I wanted, I most definitely would."

"You're not like most women, you know that?"

"No woman is. We're extremely complex creatures."

"I was married to a woman for 15 years. Trust me, I know. It's just - you're open to experiences most people wouldn't even consider. Like dating someone with kids, or becoming the next Bachelorette. It's admirable."

"You couldn't have said that two years ago. It's taken a lot of therapy to get to this point."

"Whatever the case, you're an amazing woman." Rick's eyes grew dark.

"Thank you," Michonne whispered.

They sat in silence, breathing the same steamy air. Michonne's eyes flitted to his lips as she willed Rick to kiss her.

He cleared his throat and rose from the couch. "It's getting late, I should probably head back. I need to sort out a few final details with production."

Michonne followed him to the door, masking her disappointment. "Producer and host? I'm impressed."

"I'm definitely no producer; not yet, at least. I've been hosting the show for twelve years now, so they tend to value my opinion."

"I'll trust I'm in good hands then," she said, opening the hotel door.

"Well," Rick said, standing in the doorway. "Get plenty of sleep tonight. Tomorrow's gonna be a long day."

"Yes, sir." Michonne gave him a mock salute. "Gotta look good for my future husband."

Rick's expression grew serious and he just stood there, staring at her. Again.

"You ok–" Before Michonne could finish, Rick pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Michonne's body responded immediately. Rick's lips weren't as full as hers, but his vigor made up for the difference. His kiss was hungry and sensual. She moaned when his hands gripped her waist and he sucked on her bottom lip.

 _Damn_ , she thought, wanting him to caress every inch of her body with those lips. But Rick ended the mind-blowing kiss with a gentle peck on the corner of her mouth.

"Good night," he whispered, before turning to leave.

Michonne stood speechless for the first time in her life, her body burning as she watched him go.

* * *

Rick adjusted his tie as he stood in the mansion driveway awaiting Michonne's arrival. He was nervous to see her again, like he was the one waiting to meet his future spouse. This was new territory for him, he hadn't felt this nervous about a woman since college.

Michonne intrigued him. Whenever he thought he'd figured her out, she'd hurl something at him from left field. He wanted to peel back her complex layers and get to the core of her. He'd had only one rule as the host of _The Bachelorette_ \- never fall in love with the talent. Twelve seasons and he'd never even been tempted. Until Michonne.

She was everything Rick wanted in a woman – intelligent, kind, funny and absolutely gorgeous. If he was really being honest with himself, he'd fallen for her the first day they met. Her smile had drawn him in and her sharp wit kept his attention. And her body was a work of art, from her silky brown skin to her shapely thighs.

"Get it together," Rick whispered to himself.

"What?" Andrea's voice barked from his earpiece.

"Just running through my lines," Rick said more clearly.

Andrea was a producer and colleague. She'd gone from film school grad to producer in less than three years. They weren't exactly friends, but he respected her talent and drive.

"The eagle has landed," Andrea said.

Rick stood a little straighter as Michonne's limo pulled up. The middle-aged driver exited and opened Michonne's door. She stepped out of the limo and into the night.

Rick's eyes widened. The beads of her designer dress sparkled, the ivory garment hugging every voluptuous curve. Her locs were pulled into an intricate updo that further accentuated her long neck. Her full lips were painted deep red.

"You're drooling," Andrea said, breaking the trance. He wasn't drooling, but his mouth was hanging open slightly. Rick shook it off and switched to host mode.

"Michonne, welcome," he said, holding his arms wide open for a hug. The cameras were on them.

"Thank you," Michonne said, embracing him.

 _She smells so good_ , Rick thought, resisting the urge to sniff her. His hand brushed the soft skin on the small of her exposed back.

Before he could stop himself, he whispered into her ear, "You look beautiful."

"You too," she whispered back.

"How ya feelin'?" Rick asked as he pulled away. His Southern accent crept out when he was overly excited.

Michonne exhaled and smiled. "Nervous. And I don't get nervous often."

 _You're not the only one_. "We're all here," Rick said, taking her hands in his, "to help you find the man of your dreams."

"I can't wait," Michonne said.

Rick winked, hoping the cameras - and Andrea - didn't catch it. Michonne's smile brightened.

The limo with the first group of guys entered the driveway. "The first limo's arriving. Are you ready to meet the guys?"

"Yes," Michonne said.

Rick just stood there smiling. She squeezed his hands slightly.

"Rick!" Andrea snapped. He refocused. _I'm here to do a job_. Nothing more, nothing less.

"Good luck," he said, going in for another hug. He breathed her in, not wanting to let her go.

The limo stopped a few yards in front of them and he delivered the same lukewarm line he did every year. "Let the journey begin."

"Thank you," Michonne said, turning away from him to face the limo.

Rick walked off-camera, taking a seat next to Andrea on the sidelines. She sipped from a huge Starbucks cup, her eyes glued to a 50" screen that displayed shots of five cameras at various angles.

"I can't do much with long pauses, Rick," Andrea said, not taking her eyes off the screen.

A makeup artist dabbed sweat from his forehead and applied fresh foundation. "This isn't my first rodeo," Rick said. "You got what you needed."

"It could've been better."

He sometimes wondered why Andrea stuck around on a show like _The Bachelorette_. She wasn't a romantic like him and openly expressed disdain for viewers who actually took the show seriously.

"Just try to remember you're the host, not one of the contestants," Andrea said. She smiled for the first time that night. "Money shot."

Rick watched the screen as Negan headed for Michonne, donning a lecherous smile and a baseball bat slung over his shoulder. Negan hugged her, holding on a little longer than necessary.

"Michonne," Negan said, looking her up and down. "You look fantastic."

"Less is more, buddy," Rick said, watching it all unfold as a spectator.

"The viewers will love-hate him so much. I'm definitely getting a raise." Andrea sounded almost giddy.

"I'm Negan. You're even more dazzling in person." He planted a small peck on Michonne's hand.

"Thank you," Michonne said, her deep brown eyes sparkling. "You're not so bad yourself."

 _She can't seriously like this guy, can she?_

"Though I'm not quite sure how to feel about the bat," Michonne said.

"Oh, this is Lucille," Negan said. He ran his cupped hand along the mahogany bat. "I hit every home run of my career with this girl."

Negan pulled a baseball from his pocket. "Hopefully, she'll help me hit a home run for your heart," Negan said. He tossed the baseball in the air and swung the bat, connecting perfectly. A crack resounded and the ball cleared the driveway, soaring into the night sky. Seconds later a car alarm blared.

"I need someone on that ASAP," Andrea said to no one in particular. A frenzied assistant sprinted across the lawn toward the alarm.

Michonne chuckled. "You're trouble."

"Only the good kind." Negan pulled her in for another hug, parting with a noisy kiss on the cheek. Michonne watched him go, a smile plastered on her face.

Rick made a note to interrogate him thoroughly during the cocktail party interviews. Next out of the limo was Morgan, a divorced martial arts instructor with an eight-year old daughter. From Michonne's body language, Rick could tell she wasn't all that into him. Morgan seemed nice enough, but a little boring. She needed someone with a good sense of humor. Glenn was next, the law student in his early 30s. Michonne had chosen to include younger guys in the candidate pool, not wanting to rule someone out because of age. Glenn kept her laughing the whole time, but she hugged him like a younger brother.

A thunderous motorcycle engine boomed in the distance. Up the driveway rode Daryl on a black Harley Davidson Low Rider, his biceps on full display in a white t-shirt and leather vest. Daryl pulled up to Michonne and cut the engine. He deftly traded the vest for a suit jacket matching his dress pants.

"Beautiful bike," Michonne said.

"Beautiful woman," Daryl said, kissing her hand. "I hope to take you for a ride someday."

"I look forward to it," Michonne said, apparently charmed by the firefighter. _Lacking originality_ , Rick thought.

The producer picks came next, all too ridiculous to be taken seriously. Eugene, a physics professor, came dressed as Einstein. Shane, who Andrea coined "The Slut," couldn't keep his hands off Michonne. The comedian, Jesus, was more interested in getting a laugh than he was in Michonne. And Merle was a mess, sporting jeans and a t-shirt.

However, through all the shenanigans, Michonne remained gracious and poised, giving each contestant a warm welcome. She was as charming on camera as she was off-camera and possibly the best Bachelorette to date.

Tyreese was the last of the men to arrive. He was Rick's top pick for the final rose pool. He had the build of a football player, but practiced as a pediatrician. Besides the fact that he was thirty-seven and still single, his only fault was that he seemed too good to be true.

"You look amazing," he said, kissing Michonne's hand.

"Thank you," she said. "I'm feelin' the bow tie."

Tyreese laughed. "My niece made me promise to wear it the first night."

"She's got great taste, it suits you," Michonne said, her eyes twinkling.

"So you're into nerd. I can work with that."

"I grew up on comic books. If I were Japanese, I'd be a serious _otaku_."

They laughed easily together. Rick had absolutely no idea what they were talking about. It was like they were speaking some obscure nerd language.

"Ok, we should just elope right now," Tyreese said, taking her hand. "There's no way we're not made for each other." He kissed her on the cheek this time.

Rick watched Michonne as she watched Tyreese head into the mansion. The disarming geek had definitely sparked her interest.

Andrea sighed and chucked her coffee cup into the trash. "Those two are perfect. And it's boring the hell out of me."

Rick had no argument there – perfect was boring. But Michonne was nowhere near boring – and nowhere near perfect. He'd seen her interactions with her father. And he'd caught a glimpse of the hairline crack in her perfect veneer. Eventually, Andrea would see it too. Rick couldn't stand by and watch her toy with Michonne the way she'd toyed with the last Bachelorette.

But he had a lot at stake too. He needed to show that he had the gumption and drive to become a producer. And he couldn't risk it all for a woman who intended to marry another man.

Rick headed for the open bar. Tonight was going to be a long night.

* * *

Michonne yawned. Five hours after the last limo arrived, she'd finally wrapped up the last of the one-on-one conversations. Andrea had kept the guys coming, encouraging them to interrupt each other, stirring up tension among the group.

The night had been both invigorating and exhausting. Her cheeks ached from all the smiling and her shoulders were a knotted mess. Some conversations had been thought-provoking, others sexy and flirtatious, and the rest complete duds. But there was one guy who'd stood out from all the others and she was really looking forward to getting to know him better.

"Time for the First Impression Rose," Andrea said, presenting the the lapel rose on a small silver platter.

She wondered how Andrea could look so fresh at two in the morning, like she'd just stepped out of the shower. Michonne felt like death warmed over and was sure she looked it too.

Michonne grabbed the rose. "Thank goodness. I've only got another hour in me, tops."

"You're going to have to make it three. We've still got the rose ceremony and exit interviews."

"I can't," Michonne sighed. "I can barely keep my eyes open and my feet are killing me."

Andrea dug into her pocket and pulled out an orange prescription bottle. She shook a white pill into her palm and offered it to Michonne. "Take this."

"What is it?" Michonne didn't do well with pills.

"Something to get you through the night."

"No thanks. I don't take other people's prescriptions."

"Fine, but you better find something to energize you. I need you to not look like crap right now." Andrea walked away, cursing at someone over a walkie-talkie.

Conversations with Andrea usually ended with Michonne feeling slightly offended. She subtly insulted her appearance, usually her make-up or clothing choices. Michonne prided herself on keeping her cool in most situations and she refused to let Andrea throw her off her game.

"Try not to take it personally," Rick said, popping up out of nowhere. "She may be a brilliant producer, but her social skills leave room for improvement."

Rick looked dashing in a navy blue Armani suit. His warm smile made her heart race faster than any pill. She'd feared things would be awkward after the kiss last night, but Rick was a complete gentleman. Neither of them had mentioned it and she preferred it that way. She needed to focus on the real reason she was here – to find a husband – and not on getting Rick into her bed.

A cameraman accompanied Rick. "We have to do a quick interview before you give out the First Impression Rose," he said, motioning for her to take a seat on the patio couch. He sat across from her, right beside the camera. "This is the first rose you'll give out on the show. What has the lucky guy done to deserve it?"

"Well, right out of the limo he impressed me," Michonne said, smiling. "He was confident, sexy and put in the effort to make a lasting impression right off the bat."

"And no one else was able to grab your attention?"

"Not like him."

"Ok, that should be good," he said to the cameraman.

"Can I talk to you for a second?" Rick asked.

"Of course," Michonne said.

"Over here." He led her to a dark corner near the pool house, away from the lights and the cameras.

"About last night…" he started.

"Don't worry about it. We were both pretty drunk."

"I wasn't."

"What?"

"I wasn't drunk."

"Ok? I just mean to say, we should probably just forget about it."

"That's probably a good idea." Rick moved in. "You look breathtaking tonight."

"Rick, we shouldn't…" Michonne whispered.

"Shouldn't what?"

"You know…"

Rick's lips were on hers in a heartbeat. Michonne's head spun as he nipped and sucked and licked. Rick kissed her as though it were their first time all over again.

Michonne decided to just let go and let herself enjoy this little bit of happiness, knowing it couldn't last.

* * *

Dawn emerged as Michonne handed out the last rose. Not surprisingly, the First Impression Rose had gone to Negan. Rick could hardly comprehend how she could be interested in someone who was his polar opposite. He had to remind himself that Michonne wasn't his…yet. That last kiss had changed everything for him. He wanted her. And he planned to step over these twenty-three other guys to win her heart. He just needed to avoid getting fired in the process.

The shooting wrapped up and Michonne headed back to her hotel room, but not before hugging Rick goodbye. She was definitely into him.

"May the best man win," Negan said, slapping Rick on the back.

"Excuse me?" Rick asked.

"It's clear there's something going on between you two."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Whatever, man. You may have gotten a head start, but I'm in it to win. And I never lose."

"Neither do I," Rick said, facing off with him.

"This should be fun then," Negan said.

Rick tightened his jaw. _Game on_.

* * *

 **A/N: Let the journey begin! I'm completely obsessed with The Bachelorette right now and couldn't help but notice the similarities between Michonne and Rachel Lindsay. This will likely be a short and sweet summer read, but hope you enjoy it nonetheless. We'll get to know the guys better in the next chapter and watch Rick sweat as Michonne gets intimate with the other men. Would love your follows, faves and reviews!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks so much for the reviews everyone!**

 **ElleWatt: My top pick for Rachel was Eric. He seemed like the most sincere of the three guys and a great balance for her.**

 **courtgirl26 and Justsoyouknow: Thanks for letting me know about the other Bachelorette story, I had no idea there was one on here already. I'm following that one too, it's a great take on the show!**

 **RBGzMom: We'll meet Carl and Judith in the next chapter!**

* * *

"Nicki Minaj?" Michonne scoffed. "Bullshit."

"I swear on my kitten's life," Sasha said, applying glittery purple eyeshadow to Michonne's eyelids.

She usually avoided glitter like the plague, but Sasha was an artist, striking just the right balance between carefree and sophisticated.

"You did makeup for a world-famous female rapper and now you're working for a second-rate reality show?" Michonne watched Sasha in the vanity mirror. "What happened? Did you steal one of her wigs?"

Sasha laughed. "Nicki's my girl. Behind all the glamour, she's just a down-to-earth person. She would never fire someone over hair."

"Then why aren't you still working for her?"

"The tour ended. And when I heard the next Bachelorette was gonna be a sista, I signed right up. We're making history here."

"If you say so…" Michonne said. The pressures and demands of this "historical" position were not lost on her. When she'd first been introduced as the Bachelorette, her Twitter account exploded. Along with the congratulations and praise, came racist rants and threats of what was to come if she chose the "wrong" guy. She had considered closing down her account, having no means to block the cyber harassment, but just chose to stop reading the tweets altogether.

"I'm just grateful you're here," Michonne said sincerely. "l'd be bouncing off the walls if it weren't for you. I need a haven away from all the testosterone."

"Oh, I'm more than happy to step in if you ever need a break from all those fine men."

"Slow your roll, it's not that serious."

The two women shared a laugh, lifting Michonne's heavy mood. Her steamy interactions with Rick had her feeling all kinds of guilty, while the erotic dreams only added to her more physical frustrations.

"Who's got you daydreaming?" Sasha asked out of the blue.

"Huh?" Michonne asked, surprised her attention had wavered. Leave it to Rick to scatter her brain.

"Is it Tyreese? He's a definite frontrunner, in my opinion. Handsome, successful, kind - what more could you ask for?"

Michonne wished she could tell Sasha about Rick. The makeup artist had become a friend and confidante in the short time they'd known each other. But fraternizing with the crew or producers was a breach of contract and she couldn't risk the discovery of her naughty secret.

"Please don't say Negan," Sasha continued. "He's fine and all - those legs, that smile - but he's a bonafide player." She applied a light dusting of red blush to Michonne's cheeks.

"Just because he's got game doesn't mean he's a player," Michonne said, happy to think about someone other than Rick. "He's well-educated, confident and has a great sense of humor. And he's ready to settle down."

Sasha shook her head. "I knew it."

"What?" Michonne tried not to move her lips as Sasha painted them with a wine-colored lipstick.

"You've been bedazzled by the swag."

Michonne sniggered, not sure she'd heard her right. "Bedazzled?"

"Yes. Negan's got you sprung."

Michonne rolled her eyes. "How can I be sprung? I just met the guy."

"Hence, the power of the swag."

"You're giving way too much credit to him and way too little to me."

"Uh huh…" Sasha said.

And then Michonne thought about Rick. Realizing how many times she'd replayed the details of their last kiss - the softness of his lips, the hardness of his body - she suddenly felt like an idiot. Maybe Rick was the one with the swag.

"What about Rick?" Sasha asked, putting the finishing touches on Michonne's eyeliner.

"Rick?" Michonne squeaked, her eyes wide. The heat rushed to her cheeks.

Sasha crinkled her brow. "What does he think? He's supposed to be like your sounding board, right?"

"R-right," Michonne said, stuttering for the first time in her adult life. She'd had a pronounced stutter in grade school and had worked for years with a speech therapist to suppress it. It only took one mention of Rick to bring it to the surface.

Sasha stood with both hands on her hips. "Spill it."

"What?" Michonne asked, donning her best poker face. "There's nothing to spill."

Sasha smiled knowingly. "I thought lawyers were supposed to be good liars."

Michonne again debated whether she could trust Sasha. Before joining the Bachelorette, she had promised herself that she would let her heart - not her head - lead the way. She decided to follow her instincts.

"You can't tell anyone," Michonne stressed. "I mean it." She held out her pinky. "Pinky swear."

"Swear," Sasha said, locking pinkies with Michonne.

"We kissed," Michonne said finally.

"What?" Sasha bounced up and down. "When?"

"The night before I met the men." Michonne closed her eyes. "And right before the rose ceremony."

"Oh shit!"

"Rick could lose his job over this, so you seriously can't tell anyone."

"I know how to keep a secret, Michonne." Sasha smirked. "Do you know how many women around here have been trying to hit that since Rick got a divorce?"

Guilt reared its ugly head yet again. Along with a little pride.

She'd initially considered whether Rick was a player who just enjoyed seducing the star of the show. Maybe he'd made out with all of the Bachelorettes before her. But even as the thought crossed her mind, her gut instinct revolted against the idea. Cross-examining witnesses on a regular basis had made her a good judge of character. Rick wasn't that type of guy.

"Just make sure Andrea doesn't find out," Sasha said.

"Of course not. A scandal between the host and star of the show would definitely put a wrench in her plans."

"And she's got it bad for Rick."

"You're kidding me."

Sasha shook her head.

Michonne let the gravity of Sasha's words sink in. Andrea controlled the show, which meant she controlled Michonne's image. The last thing she wanted was to get on the producer's bad side. And yet, Michonne was enraptured with Rick. Could she just let him go?

Somehow, the uncertainty and danger of the situation made her want Rick even more.

* * *

"Right," Rick answered absent-mindedly, having completely missed the tail-end of Andrea's response.

Crew members buzzed around like worker bees, hastily setting up equipment and refreshments. They mirrored the chaos in Rick's mind.

"Make sure to get an interview with Shane before the game starts," Andrea said.

"Got it," Rick said. He already had plans to interview all the guys before the game started. He didn't understand why she was singling out Shane.

He and Andrea stood on the edge of a grassy field in a sports park. Michonne had played competitive sports in college and chose a sports challenge for the first group date. The challenge would help her evaluate the guys on their physical fitness and ability to work cooperatively with others.

"What's going on with you?" Andrea asked, her crystal blue eyes full of scrutiny. "You're acting really weird."

"I'm fine," Rick said with more bass than he'd intended. He softened his voice. "I just didn't get much sleep last night."

 _Fine_ was a bit of a stretch, but the last bit was true. Sleep had been hard to come by with thoughts of Michonne and their steamy makeout session swirling through his head. Watching her interact with the other men last night - laughing at Shane's bad jokes, whispering in Glenn's ear, touching Negan lightly on the arm - had driven him to act.

Like some impulsive alpha male, he'd needed to kiss her, to taste her - to claim her. Rick had never been this drawn to a woman in his life. The magnetic attraction between them made him reckless enough to risk his career for a chance with her.

"Ok," Andrea said, squinting her eyes. "Just make sure to focus on Shane. I have a feeling he'll stir up trouble amongst the guys."

Rick frowned. "The guys are anxious enough as it is. There's no need to add fuel to the fire."

Andrea was notorious for playing mind games with the contestants, which had become a point of contention between the two of them. Last year, she'd set the stage for a fist fight between a boxer and a music producer, one of whom was sent to the hospital for stitches. He wondered whether the competition for Michonne's affection was making him more aggressive than usual.

Andrea pursed her lips. "It really isn't complicated, Rick. I've already gotten the ball rolling, I just need you to do your part to ensure that everything runs smoothly."

Rick found Andrea morally ambiguous at best. She had a knack for exploiting the emotions of the contestants to maximize the drama. Her skill inspired both awe and disgust in Rick. Unbeknownst to anyone but his son, Carl, Rick was a hopeless romantic. He'd even penned a post-apocalyptic romantic comedy under a pseudonym, though he'd lacked the courage to let anyone read the screenplay.

He believed in the premise of the show, that people could find true love in a short amount of time if they were open to it. Andrea wasn't the first producer he'd gone head-to-head with for trying to capitalize on a person's vulnerability for ratings. It was more than possible to capture drama without punching any of the guys below the belt. Taking on a producer role would be his first step in bringing this vision to fruition. But if he had any hopes of becoming a producer, he had to impress the Executive Producer first, which meant playing nice with Andrea for the time being.

A static-filled voice blared from the walkie talkie strapped to Andrea's hip. "The eagle has landed. I repeat, the eagle has landed."

Andrea unclipped the walkie talkie from her belt. "I heard you the first time, Dale."

Rick's heart did a flip at learning Michonne had arrived.

"Don't forget Shane," Andrea said to Rick before walking off.

Rick spotted Michonne across the field. She wore a black Adidas track jacket and black leggings with mesh panels exposing glimpses of brown thigh. Rick swallowed hard as she headed his way, grateful for the extra room in his loose track pants.

Michonne possessed a poise and timeless beauty that made lesser men aspire to greatness. He didn't know what feature of hers he liked the most: her dusky brown eyes, sharp cheekbones, heart-shaped face, or the smile that seemed to hold the secret of life itself.

Michonne stopped to speak with Andrea. Even from a yard away, Rick picked up on the tension between the two women. Andrea stood a little taller as she spoke and Michonne tilted her head to the side.

Rick walked over to meet Michonne as Andrea departed.

"Hey," Rick said, going in for a hug. He had no worries that others might read something into their contact. He'd always been a hugger.

"Hey," Michonne said, her voice lacking enthusiasm.

"You okay?" He hoped she didn't regret their intimate encounter the previous night.

"Yeah. I'm just having trouble figuring Andrea out."

Rick chuckled, relieved that her frustration wasn't aimed at him. "Don't bother. She's a tough nut to crack."

"One minute she's acting like my best friend, offering advice. And the next she's insulting my outfit."

Rick took her in. He wanted to run his hands up her thighs and let his imagination lead the way. "You'll get no complaints from me."

Michonne shook her head, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Get that gleam out of your eyes."

Before Rick could respond, the men arrived for the group date. Eight guys unloaded from the van and headed straight for them. They were all dressed in sportswear and pumped up.

"Michonne!" Shane yelled. He jogged their way, separating himself from the pack. Rick noticed Dale, Andrea's lead cameraman, tracking Shane. He really had no clue what Andrea had up her sleeve, which made him nervous.

Michonne waved and smiled back. "Guess it's time to get this started," she said. She glanced awkwardly at Rick, before turning to greet Shane.

Shane threw his arms around Michonne, effortlessly lifting her off her feet and spinning her around. Michonne giggled like a schoolgirl. Rick frowned.

"Damn girl," Shane said, laying on the Southern twang. He slowly lowered her to the ground, her body flush against his. "You're hotter than the Georgian sun in them pants."

Rick gritted his teeth.

Michonne placed her hands on Shane's chest, expertly putting some distance between the two of them. "Thank you. And keep the compliments coming."

"Shane," Rick said, happy to interrupt them. "Let's have a quick chat before the game."

"Sure," Shane said. "I hope the victor gets a kiss today because I'm definitely winnin'."

"I doubt that," Negan said, joining them. "Long time no see, darlin'."

"Negan," Michonne said, giving him a hug.

Negan had been the most disappointed when Rick announced he'd be joining seven other guys for a group date. He was probably expecting to be chosen for the one-on-one instead. Rick hoped the group date worked to Negan's disadvantage.

Rick took Shane aside, followed closely by Dale and his camera.

"You're really confident today," Rick said.

"I know what I'm bringin' to the table and it's a lot more than these other jokers," Shane said, all bravado. "Michonne needs a confident guy. Not some pussy."

Rick couldn't believe this guy was an actual Sheriff's deputy. He had friends in law enforcement and Shane was the kind of person that gave them all a bad name. And he highly doubted Michonne wanted a guy who referred to anyone as a "pussy."

 _Looks like Andrea's found her first villain_ , Rick thought, her motives behind the interview request becoming clear.

"And what can you offer Michonne that the others can't?" Rick asked. If Andrea wanted to typecast Shane as the villain, he was more than happy to play along. The chauvinist lacked any redeeming qualities.

Shane smiled smugly. "It's pretty obvious," he said. "Looks, charm, confidence - everything a woman could ever want. Plus, I've got a big dick."

Rick curled his lip in disgust, not caring if Shane noticed. Andrea was going to love this, though they'd have to bleep out the vulgar bit to adhere to the family-friendly rating.

"Good luck to you then," Rick said, certain Shane wouldn't make it past the next rose ceremony.

* * *

Michonne blew her whistle, lifting her hands to the sky. "Touchdown," she shouted enthusiastically.

Shane spiked the ball and proceeded to do an overtly sexual victory dance, stomping his feet and gyrating his hips to a beat only he could hear.

Michonne laughed, delighting in Shane's display. This was his fifth touchdown of the game, putting his team ahead by fourteen points. The blast of a bullhorn signaled the end of the game.

"Enjoy yourself, Ref?" Rick asked.

They wore matching white-and-black striped shirts, having both served as referees for the flag football match.

"Thoroughly," Michonne responded. "I don't know what was more entertaining, Negan scaring Eugene into fumbling or Shane's victory dance."

Rick frowned. "Not really sure I would call that a dance."

Michonne smiled. A jealous Rick was endearing. "I like a guy who's not afraid to make a fool of himself from time to time."

"Shane is definitely that guy," Rick said, a little snarky.

Michonne could understand why Rick and Shane might clash. Both were headstrong alpha males - one of the reasons she was attracted to the both of them.

She looked forward to announcing Shane as the winner of the challenge, which would give them more time to talk in the evening. She wanted to dive below the surface, to see if there was more to him than the macho cop facade. Normally, she wouldn't have given someone like Shane the time of day, but she'd promised herself not to judge the men before getting to know them better.

"You were an awesome referee, Michonne," Maggie said. She was Andrea's top production assistant and seemed way too nice to be working for someone like her. "We got some great footage."

"Thanks in advance for making me look good," Michonne said.

Maggie laughed. "It doesn't take much effort. The camera loves you."

"I second that," Rick said.

"You son of a bitch!" a man yelled off in the distance, drawing their attention.

A graying middle-aged man rushed onto the field, his bright red face contorted in anger.

"What the…" Maggie trailed off.

The man grabbed Shane, bunching his shirt in his fists. "I trusted you!" he spat.

"Hold on," Shane said calmly. He held his hands up in surrender. "What're you doin' here, Bill?"

Michonne spotted Andrea motioning to Dale to focus on the encounter. She moved in their direction, but Rick stopped her with a light touch on her arm.

"You should stay out of this," Rick said.

"If this concerns Shane, I need to know what's going on," Michonne said. The lawyer in her needed all the facts.

"I'm coming with you then.".

"She's my wife and you're my partner!" The man still had Shane by the shirt, his eyes watering.

Shane shoved the man away. "I don't know what Charlene told you, but she's lyin'."

"You need to calm down, sir," Negan said, hovering near the two men. Michonne was impressed with his willingness to take control of the situation.

"What is this, Shane?" Michonne asked. She knew how quickly things could get out of hand when men became emotional and wanted to de-escalate the confrontation as calmly as possible.

The man kept his eyes on Shane. "This lying piece of shit slept with my wife."

"That's bullshit, Bill, and you know it," Shane said.

Both men were extremely convincing. Michonne had no clue who to believe.

"Is a paternity test bullshit, Shane?" the man yelled. The shock on Shane's face was palpable. "That's right," Bill continued, his voice raw. "She said my newborn - my son - isn't mine. And she's leaving me to be with the real father of her son - you. She's got the paternity test to prove it."

Shane's reaction to the news was enough to tell Michonne that everything Bill said was true. And everything Shane had said up until then was a lie. "Shane, you need to explain yourself right now." Her voice trembled with anger.

He looked back and forth between her and Bill. She studied his expression, wondering how he would choose to react to the situation. Her knack for catching a liar in a lie was both a gift and a curse. In certain situations, she wished she could just take what a person said as truth. This wasn't one of those situations. If Shane lied his way through difficult situations, that was definitely something she needed to know.

"Alright," Shane said. "I slept with her. But the kid isn't mine-"

Bill's fist connected with Shane's jaw and Michonne screamed. Rick jumped in, grabbing Shane before he had the chance to strike back. Negan held back Bill.

"Enough," Rick said.

Shane struggled to free himself of Rick's hold, yelling at Bill. "You can have that bitch! And tell her she's not getting a cent from me."

Michonne landed a sharp slap across Shane's face, stunning him. She knew how bad this would look on camera, but she didn't care. "Pack your bags and get the fuck out of here. We're done," she said, her hand still stinging from the slap.

"Michonne-" Shane said.

"You have ten seconds to grab your things and load into the van, or you can expect a worse beating than that," Negan said ominously.

Rick released his hold on Shane, who scanned the group of men surrounding him. Michonne was sure he picked up on the same tension she did because he grabbed his gym bag and hopped into the van without another word.

"Good riddance," Michonne said as the van pulled away.

"Are you okay?" Rick asked, immediately at her side.

"Yeah." Michonne felt the world closing in on her. "Did you know about this?" After this clearly orchestrated disaster, she wasn't sure who she could trust.

Rick frowned. "Of course not."

"Ok," she said. But her walls were up and she wasn't sure which side to put Rick on at this point.

"You sure you're okay?" Rick asked, as though he'd read her doubts.

"I just need a minute." She headed for the locker rooms, in need of a good cry.

"What a dickhead," Andrea said, as Michonne passed her. "You handled that beautifully."

Michonne could handle apathetic Andrea, even passive aggressive Andrea, but this latest version of her was difficult to swallow. She leaned in, keeping her voice low. "I'm only going to say this once. If you pull something like that again, I walk."

Andrea smirked. "I doubt that."

The women faced off. Michonne imagined they could have been friends under different circumstances. They were both women in professions dominated by men and probably faced similar challenges in trying to carve out careers for themselves. But Michonne wasn't going to just lie down and take it, even if she did respect Andrea's ambition.

"I've said what I had to say. And I really don't like repeating myself," Michonne said.

"Heard you loud and clear," Andrea said, her expression void of emotion.

Michonne let the conversation end there, needing to decompress before she could even begin to formulate a plan for dealing with the producer.

* * *

 _Negan strikes again_ , Rick thought, as Michonne's laughter floated down the hallway. The two had been chatting alone for the past hour.

The evening portion of the group date was being held in a quirky diner that had been rented out by the show. Michonne had three hours for one-on-ones with the guys on the group date and she'd spent the first two hours getting to know seven of the guys. The last hour she spent with Negan.

Rick had completed his interviews and was killing time with the other guys.

"My chance of winning the rose tonight is at least 75.9 percent," Eugene said. "Michonne really liked my zombie lawyer joke."

"I'm calling bullshit, Cassanova," said Abraham, a beefy redheaded coach from Texas.

"Negan's in the lead, right?" Daryl asked Rick. The firefighter kept mostly to himself, rarely speaking to anyone besides Glenn. Rick knew him asking that question in front of everyone else was a big deal.

"I wouldn't say that," Rick said. "The Bachelorettes can change their minds at the drop of a hat."

"Michonne's not that type. She's the kind of woman who knows what she wants," Daryl said.

"I can't disagree with that." Michonne wasn't the indecisive type. It was clear Daryl didn't miss much.

Michonne and Negan rejoined the group, laughing and walking hand-in-hand. Rick cleared his throat. "Almost an hour for a group date one-on-one. You two set a new record."

"And it still wasn't long enough," Negan said, kissing Michonne's hand before taking a seat with the rest of the men.

"Sorry, guys. I guess I lost track of time," Michonne said. She avoided looking in Rick's direction. She had been oddly distant since the Shane incident and the loss of her attention weighed on him. She squeezed in between Negan and Daryl, the silver mini dress she wore exposing more thigh as she took a seat. "I just want to thank you all for tonight. After everything that went down today, I started to question whether or not I should even continue this journey. But after tonight, I'm more certain than ever that I'll find my future husband among such a wonderful group of men."

Rick feared he was excluded from that group. After all, he was the host of the show, not one of the contestants. Plus, he was divorced with two kids and had no intention to remarry. But Michonne had shifted his paradigm and the thought of losing her to someone else was devastating. He had to make things right between the two of them, to make sure she knew he had nothing to do with what went down today.

"And with that…" Michonne said, picking up a rose from the coffee table. "Negan, will you accept this rose?"

Negan smiled. "Has a man ever said no to you?"

Michonne laughed. "It's been done before." She pinned the rose to his shirt and kissed him on the cheek. Rick's heart dropped.

"All right guys, time to call it a night." She went around the room, hugging and thanking each man for being there. "Sleep well."

Rick moved for Michonne, but Negan slipped in front of him. "Can I walk you out?" Negan asked.

"Sure," Michonne said, not bothering to say goodbye to Rick. Negan slipped his arm around her waist and the two sauntered out of the diner like some celebrity newlywed couple.

If Michonne thought Rick was going to bow out and go quietly into the night, she really didn't know him at all.

* * *

Freshly showered and enjoying a glass of wine, Michonne perused headshots of the remaining contestants. Tyreese was her choice for the first one-on-one date and she was confident she'd chosen well. His gorgeous smile and kind eyes made her want to get to know him better, to find out if they had more in common than an interest in Japanese culture. She had prepared a list of questions to ask him during their date tomorrow and was genuinely excited to see where this could go.

After the chaos of the day, Michonne was doing her best to put Rick out of her mind. The thing with Shane made her doubt not only the intentions of the show, but his intentions as well. He'd sworn that he had nothing to do with it, but she found that hard to believe. A knock sounded at the door. She'd ordered another bottle of wine from room service.

"Coming," she called out. Michonne looked out the peep hole to find Rick on the other side. Her stomach fluttered. "Relax," she whispered to herself. She needed to get rid of him and the confusion he would inevitably bring with him.

"Go away, Rick," Michonne said.

"We need to talk," he said. "I only need five minutes."

"This has already gone too far. Let's just end it here."

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me. And I'd rather not be escorted out by security."

The last thing Michonne needed was for any of this to end up in the tabloids. She opened the door and immediately knew it was a mistake. Rick squared his shoulders, his tussled curls and five o'clock shadow making him look even more handsome. His blue eyes were dark and piercing. He wanted to do more than just talk.

"I..." Michonne started, words suddenly escaping her.

Rick kissed her, not missing a beat. The flood of hormones drowned out any internal alarms and she kissed him with wild abandon. He slammed the door shut behind them. He hoisted her up by the waist and Michonne wrapped her legs around him, her hips gyrating against the bulge in his crotch. He moaned, the taste of his desire on her tongue. Rick carried her to the couch, settling between her legs.

Michonne wanted Rick more than she'd wanted any man in her life. She knew making love to him would mean more than she was willing to admit, but she needed him. She cried out as Rick slid his hand into the front of her pants.

"You're so wet," he said huskily. Michonne threw her head back as his finger worked the sensitive spot between her legs.

"Yes," she whispered.

"Come for me, Michonne," Rick said, relentless in his fondling.

"Oh...oh yes. Please."

"Now," Rick whispered, sucking hard on the most sensitive spot on her neck.

Michonne orgasmed on command for the first time ever. Her release left her feeling hot, dizzy and thirsty for more.

Rick kissed her deeply, tugging on her bottom lip with his teeth. "My five minutes are up. I'll see you tomorrow."

Rick slid his hand from her pants and slipped out the door. Michonne struggled to catch her breath.

* * *

 **A/N: This took a little longer to write than I would have liked, but I hadn't quite figured out how "mature" to get with this story. As you can probably tell, it's definitely leaning toward the mature adult content. This is definitely a Richonne story, but Negan and some of the other guys will present road bumps along the way. Hope you stick with it and I'll try to get the next chapter out sooner than this last one. Thanks for the follows, faves and reviews! It's always great to hear from you all!**


	3. Chapter 3

"He'll see you now," said the executive assistant, her blues eyes energetic behind the red rims of her designer glasses.

She reminded Andrea of herself three years ago, when she'd finally landed her first Hollywood gig as an assistant. She guessed the woman hadn't been in show business long; her countenance lacked the familiar lines of cynicism.

Andrea zipped the front of her hoodie before entering the Executive Producer's corner office. Phillip sat pounding something out on his laptop, the sleeves of his crisp white shirt rolled up to his elbows. Andrea admired his massive oak desk and picturesque view of L.A. beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. If she played her cards right, she'd be sitting in his Italian leather chair within a year.

"How's our girl?" Phillip asked, not bothering to look up from his laptop.

The feminist in her tried not bristle whenever he referred to grown women as "girls." Phillip came from oil money and she struggled not to hold his strictly conventional upbringing against him.

"Exceeding my expectations," Andrea said.

When Michonne had been selected as the Bachelorette, Andrea struggled to accept the decision. The lawyer was confident, gracious and smart as a whip - the exact woman she had been fighting to bring on the show since she became a producer. But she was well into her 30s - and African-American. She initially had no idea how to market Michonne to middle-aged housewives in the Midwest, the bread and butter of their audience. Her biggest challenge was to to highlight her intelligence and beauty, while retaining her down-home charm. The line between admiration and jealousy was thin.

"Good to hear," he said, finally gracing her with his attention, though his gaze went straight to her breasts before moving upward. He smiled to himself. Or was that a smirk?

"The men we expected to fall for her are right on track," Andrea said. "The Michonne-Negan chemistry will definitely appeal to career women."

"What about Merle?" Phillip asked, throwing her for a loop. "We haven't seen enough of him on screen."

Merle had been a last-minute addition, Phillip's only pick among the candidates. She had been in a rush to get everything ready for the first shoot and had barely given the crude man a thought. She figured he was just there to appeal to the corn belt audience. Now, she wished she'd paid more attention. He was turning out to be a sharp thorn in her ass.

"Considering he's drunk most of the time, I doubt he's a forerunner," she said.

"Maybe you should reconsider." His smile failed to reach his eyes.

It was more of a request than a recommendation. A buzz interrupted them before she could respond.

"Rick is here," the assistant's voice blared from the intercom.

"Send him in," Phillip said.

Andrea was sure if she'd been the late one, Phillip would have made her wait until the meeting ended before granting her entrance.

"Sorry I'm late," Rick said, dropping into the seat next to her. "I had to put out a quick fire for Michonne, but all's been handled."

Andrea noticed his slightly flushed cheeks and the beads of sweat along his brow. "Anything I need to worry about?"

"Not at all." Rick avoided her gaze.

She made a mental note to find out what was up with him. The last thing she needed was for her host to go rogue. She planned on this being the highest rated season yet and not even Rick would get in the way of that.

"Now that we're all here," Phillip said, leaning forward, "there are a few things I'd like to discuss."

Andrea suppressed a sigh. Phillip had many talents, but producing a reality show wasn't one of them. His suggestions usually led to longer hours for her and the crew, only for him to change his mind when it came for the final cut.

"As I was saying before, Merle has been noticeably absent and I can't quite figure out why," he continued. "He's the most screen-worthy of the bunch."

"If by screen-worthy, you mean prejudice and rude," Rick said.

A smile lilted on Andrea's lips. Rick was usually easygoing and laidback, able to build a rapport with strangers with almost no effort. But behind the amiable exterior was a man who refused to take anyone's shit. She hoped to one day do the same without the threat of being labeled a bitch by her male counterparts.

"This is reality TV," Phillip said, abandoning the fake smile. "Diplomacy makes for dismal ratings. We need to spice things up a bit and Merle is the only one capable of doing that. Plus, everyone's got a right to express their personal opinions."

Andrea noticed a slight shift in Rick. She jumped in before he said something he would regret and ruin his chances of becoming a producer, which she wanted for him almost as much as he did.

"Given the current climate, we might want to steer away from any confrontations about beliefs and the like," she said. "Our audience is here for romance, not politics."

Andrea wasn't afraid to push the envelope and do what needed to be done to create the petty, drama-filled moments people loved to chat about on Twitter. But Merle was a ticking bomb. She couldn't be sure what kind of garbage he would spew if they actually gave him more time with Michonne. She'd already spent hours editing his personal footage and had found only a few minutes of him not being a complete asshole.

"Who said anything about politics?" Phillip asked.

Andrea harbored no misconceptions about her boss's political leanings. She wouldn't be inviting him to have dinner with her feminist colleagues any time soon. Which was all fine by her, as long as his primitive beliefs didn't interfere with her job.

"In the end, this is about the ratings," Rick chimed in. "The popularity of the first two episodes has surpassed our expectations by a mile. Michonne is the reason people are tuning in every week and we need to keep her happy. If she's going to have more time with Merle, it should be of her own accord."

Rick had been an advocate of Michonne's from the very beginning. Even when Andrea had doubts, he organized a diverse focus group of housewives and professionals to prove how popular Michonne would be among a broad spectrum of demographics. She looked between the two men. Rick and Phillip were at an impasse, neither likely to budge an inch. She wondered at the former's insistence. He usually disagreed with these kinds of tactics, but she'd never seen him this adamant before.

Phillip leaned back, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Looks like it's two to one. I'll back off, for now." And with that, he went back to his laptop. She and Rick took their cue to leave. Andrea doubted this was the last she'd hear about Merle, but for now she was satisfied to just to get back to wrangling insecure men.

"Thanks for your support," Rick said as they headed to the elevators outside of Phillip's office. He sounded kind of surprised, which annoyed her for some reason. It wasn't like she'd never had his back in the past.

"Don't worry about it," she said flippantly. "You were right about the ratings and at the end of the day that's all that matters."

They boarded the empty elevator together. His spicy cologne filled the small space, making her wish the elevator was crowded so she'd have an excuse to get closer to him.

"You don't fool me," he said. "Behind that indifferent exterior is a true romantic. You can't work on this show for as long as you have and not believe in love."

"It's not that I don't believe in love. I just think anyone who comes on a reality show expecting to find it is either a moron or still believes in the tooth fairy."

Rick laughed wholeheartedly. "Well, if anyone can break through that wall of cynicism, Michonne can. I'll be the first to admit that some of the Bachelorettes have joined the show for less than sincere reasons, but she's not one of them. Her heart's in the right place. She really is an extraordinary woman."

The elevator doors opened and Andrea's heart dropped. Rick had a thing for Michonne.

* * *

"Wow," Tyreese said as Michonne joined him. For their first date, she'd chosen a shimmering gold number, reminiscent of a flapper dress from the 1920s. She had always been on the conservative side when it came to her wardrobe, but she trusted her stylist, who often pushed her toward bolder choices. Judging by Tyreese's reaction, she'd chosen well.

In the hills of L.A., they had a perfect night view of the city skyline and lights. He pulled out a chair for her. White china plates and delicate silverware adorned a linen-covered table, accentuated with fragrant vanilla-scented candles.

"You're radiant," Tyreese said as she took her seat.

"Thank you," Michonne said. "You look incredible as well."

And she meant it. In a charcoal suit tailored perfectly for his wide shoulders and thick biceps, she wanted to run her fingers along the silky material and feel what he was packing beneath the suit.

 _Easy girl._

The first course arrived, a creamy sun-dried bisque with perfectly toasted croutons. "Looks delicious," she said, digging in. She was a foodie to the bone and as eager to enjoy the exquisite five-course meal as she was to get to know Tyreese.

He watched her closely as she savored the first bite, moaning and licking her lips. He chuckled. "I see you're as much of a foodie as I am."

"I'm highly suspicious of people who aren't," she joked, relieved that he was a man who delighted in a woman with a healthy appetite. "I only got into fitness so I could eat whatever I want, whenever I want."

"It's paying off." He roamed her body with his eyes. "We'll have to workout together sometime. I'm sure you could teach me a few things."

"I'd like that." Michonne tried to ignore thoughts of Rick and their run together just that morning, leading to an intense make-out session behind a tree in the park. She let go of the memory of his hands rubbing up and down her spandex-covered behind and focused on the handsome man sitting across from her.

Their conversation was as light as the cheese soufflé. She learned he had two sisters and a 10-year-old niece whom he adored. He attended church with his mother every Sunday. He'd provided medical care to countless children in eastern Africa for two years with Doctors Beyond Borders, which had been the most fulfilling experience in his life.

Tyreese was the ideal man, someone she'd love to take home to meet her family. He said all the right things, impressing her at every turn. But something was missing. She didn't quite feel the spark she was hoping to.

Ending their world-class meal with glasses of dessert wine, the conversation turned to more intimate matters. "I know you must get this a lot, but I have to ask. How is a fine, educated brotha like you not married? I'm sure the church ladies are all over you on Sunday morning, bringing you pies and introducing you to their daughters." Michonne kept her tone light, but her chest constricted in anticipation of his answer.

He nodded. "You're right, I do get asked that a lot. To be honest, black women have never been all that interested in me."

She squinted in disbelief. "I find that hard to believe. No offense, but look at you. And you're a doctor. Come on now."

He shook off the compliment. "It's true. I've only dated women who've shown interest in me and so far, that's only been white women."

"Hmmm," she said, nodding through the shock. "So you've only ever dated white women, I see."

Michonne had no qualms with interracial dating. She'd been dating whoever struck her fancy since high school, which naturally included men of all races. The majority of her exes were black men, whom she found just as attractive as any other race. She had a hard time believing that Tyreese dated only white women because no one else was interested in him.

"Uh oh, I know that look." Tyreese's observational skills were apparently as keen as hers. "You're starting to have doubts."

"There's no look," she said, becoming a little defensive. "It's just surprising, is all."

"Well, let me see if I can dispel those misgivings." He swooped in, planting a gentle kiss on her lips, easing her mouth open slightly. He smelled so good and just as she was beginning to feel something, he pulled away. She felt confused and uneasy, not sure if she should feel thankful he was such a gentleman or mildly insulted.

"That was nice," he said, almost shyly. "Your lips are so soft, like pillows."

"You too," she said, already analyzing the gnawing feeling in her gut. She only had an older sister, but she imagined this was exactly how it would feel to kiss her brother.

"So," Michonne said, picking up the rose that had been sitting on the table all night. Her next decision would either send Tyreese back to the mansion or on the first plane back home. "You're an amazing man, both inside and out." The hope in his eyes crushed her, making her next words all the harder. "You're going to make a wonderful husband some day…for the right woman."

His face dropped. "Wait, I don't understand." He grabbed her hand, his palm clammy.

"We have a lot in common and share a similar perspective of the world. My family would adore you, but my feelings for some of the other guys are stronger."

 _One in particular._

"Is this because of my dating history? I am really attracted to you, Michonne. We could be exceptional together. Why don't you see that?"

Was this really about chemistry? Was she punishing him for never having dated a black woman? Or even worse, did he just pale in comparison to Rick, a man who might not even want to marry her?

"You'll find the right woman in no time. They'll be lining up at your door. I'm just not one of them."

He just nodded slowly, his disappointment turning to thinly veiled anger. She rose from her chair, Tyreese standing with her. She hugged him, his body tense beneath her embrace.

"Can I walk you to the car?" she asked, not looking forward to the awkward silence that would likely prevail.

"I'd rather you didn't." He kissed her hand. "I hope whoever's captured your heart is worth it."

She almost called out to him as she watched him go, but kept her hands tightly clasped in front of her. It felt likely that she'd made the biggest miscalculation in her life.

* * *

"Pretty," Judith said, pointing to Michonne, who was in the process of getting her makeup done.

"Yes, very pretty," Rick said.

Rick wasn't surprised Judith had been drawn to the woman he was enchanted with. He'd brought Carl and Judith to join him backstage on the set of _The Ellen Show_. The talk show host was a huge fan of _The Bachelorette_ and had invited Michonne and six of the guys to participate in a few segments designed specifically for the show.

"Carl," Rick called to his son, who was busy chatting with a teenage girl dressed like a reality show celebrity. Receiving no response, he added some bass to his voice. "Carl!"

He hated to be that parent yelling at his kids on the set, but he wanted to introduce both of them to Michonne. Carl shot him a dirty look, but wrapped up his conversation, taking his sweet time walking over to them. The divorce had been quite ugly at times and the constant shuffling between two homes had been hardest on his son, who'd been especially temperamental lately. He hoped the therapy sessions he was paying an arm and a leg for would help his oldest child work through some of the emotions he must be struggling with.

"Thanks a lot, Rick," Carl said.

And he'd also gotten into the habit of calling him by his first name. "Dad," Rick firmly corrected him. "I want you to meet someone."

"I already met someone, but you had to cockblock me."

"Watch that language, son," Rick said, on the verge of losing his professional composure.

"Whatever."

Rick sighed, not sure how to handle this new version of his usually obedient son. He knew he was partly to blame, having failed to keep their family together.

Finished with makeup, Michonne headed their way, that gracious smile on full display. She looked stunning in a short blue Chiffon dress and black stilettos. The tension in his shoulders instantly melted away.

"And who are these two?" she asked with genuine interest, though he caught an inkling of fatigue in her expression. He knew last night had been rough on her, having to send Tyreese home so unexpectedly.

"Michonne, this is my daughter, Judith and my son, Carl." He'd introduced his kids to a handful of his co-workers, but never to any of the participants on the show. He'd always made a point to keep the showbiz aspects of his life separate from the personal. Michonne was changing all of that.

"Hi," Carl said, shaking her hand.

 _At least his manners are still intact._

Judith reached for Michonne, whining softly. "May I?" she asked, holding her arms out to his daughter.

Rick was pleasantly surprised to see how easily his kids were taking to his new love interest. He handed Judith over happily. She went straight for Michonne's locs, gripping as many as would fit in her tiny hands.

Her laugh was like music. "You're lucky you're so cute, I don't let just anyone touch my hair."

"Judith doesn't let just anyone hold her. She likes you," Carl said, looking to be impressed despite his detached exterior.

Rick took in the scene, his heart warming at the sight of Michonne with his kids, like they were...family.

"Hopefully we won't bore you to death with all the romance games," she told Carl.

His son responded to her candor. "It's cool. As long as it's not like the soap operas dad-"

Rick coughed. "Okay, son. We should let Michonne go, they're starting soon." He passed Judith over to Carl. "Head back to the green room and I'll be there in a second."

Michonne raised a finely arched eyebrow as they departed. "Soap operas, huh? I can't wait to find out what that's about."

"Not now, not ever," Rick said, smiling.

She took a step closer to him. "I like a man who's in touch with his feminine side."

Rick inhaled her spicy scent, his mouth watering. He wanted to run his tongue along that sensitive spot on her neck. He closed the distance between them and whispered, "How about I come to your hotel room later and show you just how many other sides I've got?"

She smiled mischievously. Rick's eyes went to her fruity, shiny lips and it took all he had not to lean forward and find out which flavor of lip gloss she was wearing. The air between them grew humid.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," Andrea said, from over Rick's shoulder. He and Michonne separated with lightning speed.

"Not at all," he said. "Just filling Michonne in on the talent show segment. She's really looking forward to seeing what the guys have to offer."

Michonne nodded. "I prefer a multi-talented man." She snuck a knowing look his way before leaving them.

"Is there something I need to know?" Andrea asked Rick, her arms crossed.

"Not that I'm aware of," Rick said, not appreciating her line of questioning.

"I get it. Any guy would fall for her." She paused. "But as your friend, I need to advise you not to risk your career for a roll in the hay."

Rick steamed, from embarrassment or anger, he couldn't quite tell. "Let's get a few things straight. First of all, we're not friends. I'm sorry if you had that impression. Secondly, my relationship with Michonne is none of your damn business."

Noticing the tinge of hurt in her eyes, Rick regretted being so blunt.

"If it affects the show, it most certainly is." She wasn't the type to back down easily and he respected her for it. But he refused to let her come between him and Michonne.

"There's nothing you need to be concerned about and I would appreciate you not bringing this up again - with anyone. I've invested years of my life - time that could've been spent with my family - in order to make this show what it is today. I'm not going to throw it all away."

"I hope that's true," she said before leaving him alone with his thoughts. He hoped it was true too.

* * *

Michonne clapped along with the audience as Glenn executed a ridiculously fast windmill on the ground, propelling himself with only his head. He ended the spin in a pose, blowing her a kiss. She was beyond impressed with his break dance skills.

Next up was Negan, who requested her participation to showcase his particular talent. He had her sit in a chair facing the audience.

"Music, please," Negan said, before Ginuwine's _Pony_ blasted throughout the studio.

To her embarrassment, and mild glee, Negan proceeded to perform a lap dance that was the exact opposite of smooth and graceful. His rhythm was shameful, but she had to admit she appreciated his effort. And when he peeled off his t-shirt, the audience went wild. She admired his slim physique and the tattoos accentuating his biceps. Michonne kept her hands flattened on her thighs, out of respect for the man whose children were probably watching.

 _Wait a minute. Why shouldn't I enjoy myself?_

She was here to find a husband and these men were willing to face public embarrassment to impress her. The least she could do was give them her all in return. Though she and Rick had amazing physical chemistry and she enjoyed his company, when it came down to it, he hadn't made her any promises. He knew she wanted to get married and she had no idea if he would even consider getting remarried.

The music stopped and Negan lifted her from her chair, planting a wet kiss on her cheek. The crowd went wild. In the end, the audience voted for him to receive the group date rose, with Glenn in a close second.

Michonne would need to sort out her feelings for Rick quick, before she missed the opportunity to fall in love with her future husband.

* * *

"The guys went all out today," Rick said, taking a seat across from her on the sofa. His jaw tightened at the memory of Negan's striptease.

Michonne had asked him to join her in her dressing room, wanting to talk. Lori had picked the kids up a while ago, so he had time to spare.

"Yeah, I really enjoyed myself," Michonne said. She was barefoot and had changed into the white terrycloth robe provided by the show for guests. "Some of the guys made more of an effort than the others, but it was a good time overall. And I don't have to tell you how amazing your kids are."

Rick beamed. "Thanks. They both really liked you, and that says a lot, especially for Carl. He hasn't been interested in much besides girls since the divorce."

"That must be rough for the both of you. One of my close friends specializes in family law. The kids are always on the losing end of a divorce and usually blame themselves. Your spending as much time with them as you can will definitely help them process everything that's going on. It's great to see how involved you are as a parent."

"They're my flesh and blood, a divorce isn't going to change that. Honestly, they're the most important people in my life right now."

"Good fathers are a dime a dozen and you're an amazing dad. It only makes me like you more."

Unbeknownst to her, Michonne said the exact words to touch him where it mattered. His eyes lowered to the belt holding her robe closed, the only thing standing between him and her beautiful bare skin.

Michonne cleared her throat. "So, the reason I wanted to talk." She exhaled, as though working up her courage. "What do you want from me, Rick?"

Her question threw him off guard, cooling his naughty thoughts. "I really like you, if that's what you mean."

She drew her lips in a tight smile. "And I like you. But the reason I decided to be a part of this process was to find a husband. Do you have any intentions to remarry?"

She really wasn't one to beat around the bush. "At the moment, no." She deserved his honesty and he wasn't the type to lead a woman on. He'd been divorced for over a year and had never wanted to risk experiencing the horror of a separation ever again, so he had no plans to remarry.

"Thank you for your honesty." She looked past him, not meeting his eyes. "I should get dressed and head back to the hotel."

Rick was conflicted. If he walked away now, he might lose her forever. He wasn't necessarily ready to get married again, but he knew with all his being that he didn't want this to be the end of them. He took a gamble.

He knelt before her on the couch, his hands on her knees.

She caught her breath. "Rick, please don't make this any harder than it has to be. I'm here to find a husband. If I wanted another boyfriend, I would've stayed in Dallas."

He slowly spread her legs. "Whatever this is between us, I don't want it to end. Take a chance on me, Michonne. I'll make it worth your while."

He slowly eased his hand under her robe and up her velvety thigh.

"I'm trying to do the right thing here," she breathed, eyes on his hand.

The balmy scent of her arousal stirred his cock. She was so sexy. And she was definitely naked underneath the robe.

"Just live in the moment and don't worry about tomorrow." His fingers made contact with the dripping apex of her thighs. She was already wet for him. He pushed away her robe, bringing her pussy into full view. He moved both hands to her ass, dragging her closer to him. He caught her lustful gaze as he leaned forward, looking for any signs of protest. She closed her eyes and exhaled, as his tongue swiped across her inner thigh.

Her pheromones drew him in as he caressed her stiff jewel with his gyrated back and forth, increasing the pressure of his tongue on her clit, her slender fingers running through his curls.

"Fuck." Her breathing grew heavy and her motions became more frantic.

Rick freed his cock from his jeans, taking more of her into his mouth. Her moans only made him harder, and he stroked himself for some relief.

"Oh," she gasped when he slipped two fingers into her slick channel with the other hand. She rode his fingers and tongue, her breath hot and heavy.

He undid the belt of her robe, marveling at her tight abs and taut, brown nipples. He released his cock to massage her firm breast.

She slammed down onto his fingers. "Rick."

The sound of his name on her lips was more than he could handle. Before he let his better judgment stop him, he rose from his knees and lowered her onto her back, settling between her thighs.

"I don't have a condom," he whispered in her ear, ready to stop if she told him to.

"I do." She eased herself from under him, dropping her robe to the floor. She grabbed a condom from her purse, locking the door in the process.

He was both elated and jealous at the fact that she'd been prepared. Was the condom for him or someone else? As he watched her stalk back to him, marveling at the dark patch between her legs and her perky breasts, his insecurities vanished. She wanted him as much as he wanted her and that was all that mattered. He had to make this goddess his.

Michonne climbed on top of him. She removed his jeans and straddled his thighs, ogling his jutting erection. His dick jerked in response. She tore the wrapper with her teeth and slowly rolled the condom down his straining member.

Rick held his breath as he watched her slowly descend, enveloping all of him with her heat.

"Damn," she said when he bottomed out inside of her.

Rick took a few breaths, staving off the urge to come. She was almost too tight, squeezing him to the edge of release.

She began to move - up, down, back and around. He grew warm and dizzy with pleasure. He squeezed her tits and she cried out in pleasure. She bounced up and down, placing her palms on his abs to gain leverage.

"I can't hold on much longer," he said between gritted teeth.

"Same here."

Rick decided to help them both along. He firmly pressed his thumb on her clit, using the same tactics as the last time he'd made her come.

 _Jackpot._ She cried out, arching her back and squeezing him with her climax.

"Michonne", he grunted, finishing right behind her. He pumped into her as his cum filled the condom. She kissed him, gently riding him until he went soft.

He pulled her down to rest on top of him, wishing he could feel her glistening body beneath his shirt. He would have to fully undress the next time.

"I can't believe…" she whispered.

"Shhh," he said, stroking her hair. He wanted the bliss of this moment to last for as long as she would let it.

* * *

 **A/N: Okay, so this is embarrassingly late for those who have been following since the beginning! Hope you'll give this story another go. Work kind of took over and then a computer crash took most of the writing I'd done for this chapter. But now I'm back and hope to finish this one in a quick go, with a few more chapters left to conclude this story. Will do my very best to update this soon! As always, thanks for the reviews, follows and faves!**


	4. Chapter 4

"You're headed to Jamaica!" Rick announced. Whoops of joy filled the empty mansion. Of the six contestants remaining, only three would be selected for hometown visits next week. Jamaica would be the final stop for half of them.

"Michonne in a bikini?" Abraham shifted in his seat.

"We're all goners." A slight blush touched Glenn's cheeks.

Rick stifled a grin. He and Michonne had been together almost every night since their first time together. Her sexual appetite was a formidable match for his own raging libido. And all the sneaking around was excellent foreplay for their lovemaking. Their latest rendezvous had involved a copious amount of bubbles in her private jacuzzi. Thoughts of her drenched skin peeking through white suds as he pounded into her from behind already had him imagining all the fun they could have in Jamaica.

"Don't get your dicks in a twist." Negan's booming voice commanded the room's attention. "The only one seeing that 'back for days' in a bikini is me. I'm getting the one-on-one."

Negan's postering rubbed Rick the wrong way. He'd tussled with hyper-masculine guys like him since high school and had found that a figurative kick in the balls usually put them down for the count. Rick planned to be the last man standing in the competition for Michonne's heart and he'd handle Negan when the time came. For now, he needed to focus on his duties as host. "Settle down, fellas. A beach getaway means you'll be the ones baring all for the cameras, not the Bachelorette."

"Got nothing to hide," Negan smirked.

"As we're all aware," Rick chimed.

Daryl coughed, hiding a smile behind his fist. Glenn chuckled.

"Be sure to get your beauty sleep, gentlemen. Enjoy your meal." Rick planned on room service with Michonne later that night.

The contestants headed to the dining room for dinner. The chef had prepared a low-carb spread of steak and veggies, with fruit salad for dessert. The men would need to be in peak condition for their shirtless scenes.

"Rick. Can we talk for a second?" Morgan asked, his expression almost apologetic.

"Of course." Of all the men in the house, Rick had the best rapport with Morgan. They were both single dads raising girls in an increasingly misogynistic world. Morgan had even turned him on to a few children's books for empowering young girls.

He led Morgan out by the pool, away from the cameramen. They sat on the cushioned pool chairs. "What can I help you with?"

From the way Morgan roughly rubbed his chin, Rick could already guess what he wanted to share with him. "I think it's time for me to leave." Morgan's declaration prompted mixed emotions in Rick. He was glad to not have to compete with him for Michonne's heart, but sad to see his friend go.

"Are you sure?" Rick asked, concerned about what might be driving Morgan to leave. "I thought you really wanted to get to know Michonne."

"There's no doubt about that, she's more than I could ever hope for in a wife. And she would be an amazing role model for Shea."

His words stirred up something in Rick. While Morgan had only been on a few dates with Michonne, he could already see her as his wife. Rick, on the other hand, had taken their relationship to the most intimate level, but he was still wary about committing a lifetime to her. He was certain that their chemistry - both physical and intellectual - only came around once in a lifetime and he was hesitant to gamble it away because of his fear of falling in love again.

"Does this have to do with Negan?" He'd heard from Andrea that Negan had confronted Morgan about his intentions for being on the show.

"Yes and no." Morgan was a lot more gracious than he was. "I'd never even watched this show until I saw Michonne on GMA. I left my daughter to travel across the country. But as much as I'm interested in this singular woman, I miss my daughter too much to spend another day away from her. I think Negan figured that out."

"I see…" Rick could understand the dilemma Morgan faced as a father. He wasn't sure what he'd have done if he had to be away from his children for even a few weeks.

"Plus, it's pretty clear her feelings are strongest for Negan."

"What makes you say that?" Rick kept his tone neutral.

"He's the only one she's kissed."

"When did this happen?" Rick was sure he hadn't seen anything on tape.

"According to him, late last night. He managed to dodge the night crew and sneak into her hotel room."

"That's a lie." Rick couldn't reveal that he'd been with Michonne that night and had snuck out just before dawn.

"Either way, there's something between them that I can't compete with. I figure I should cut my losses and fly back home to my baby girl."

"You do what you have to do, man." He respected his friend's decision. They shook hands and hugged, Rick following him back into the mansion. "Tell Shea hello for me."The two men parted ways for what Rick hoped wasn't the last time.

Now, he had to deal with the man with his woman's name in his mouth.

"Negan, we need to talk." Rick found him at the dining table with the other men, finishing off a rare steak, blood staining his plate. He didn't bother explaining himself before walking back out to the pool.

As he'd expected, Negan joined him in no time. "It's bad manners to come between a man and his meat," his smile lost on Rick.

"We're here to talk as men, there're no cameras rolling."

"From all that bass in your voice, I'm guessing this has something to do with Michonne."

Rick faced Negan, who had at least six inches on him. "I won't tolerate you spreading lies about her."

"What lies exactly?"

His smirk alone made Rick want to clock him.

He had to tow the line carefully, he didn't want to hint at his midnight rendezvous with Michonne last night.

"There's absolutely no footage of a kiss between you two."

"I slipped into her room without anyone noticing. It really wasn't that hard."

"Bullshit. The producers never lose track of a contestant." Rick straightened, looking Negan square in the eye. "I don't know what second-rate reality TV shows you've built a career on, but ruining someone's reputation is unacceptable here."

Negan leaned down. "And does that rule apply to you?"

His question temporarily shook him. "What are you implying?" Rick needed to know exactly what he knew, or thought he knew.

"I'm implying," Negan bounced, "that the only one capable of ruining Michonne is you. I saw you with her last night."

Rick's eyes watered in both fear and anger. He held back the urge to use his fists to fight a battle for the first time in his life. "Another lie."

He studied Rick, as though this was what he'd been seeking all along. "She deserves a man who will protect her, not put her in harm's way. That's obviously not you."

"Michonne's a grown woman, she doesn't need a man to protect her."

Negan shook his finger at Rick. "Every woman wants a man to protect her. It's in their wiring. Only a pussy would think otherwise."

Rick imagined his right hook connecting with Negan square on the chin, sending him flying backwards into the pool. But he remained level-headed, knowing it was Negan's intention to get him to do just that.

Negan crowded him. "Not even willing to fight for her, huh?"

They were suddenly interrupted by a drunken Merle. "Ya'll having a party without me?" He took a long gulp of his beer.

Rick turned his attention to Merle, glad for the distraction. "How about you call it a night, buddy? Looks like you've had more than enough to drink."

"First off, I ain't your buddy. Second, ain't no such thing as enough to drink." Merle downed the rest of his beer and burped with the finesse of a hobo.

Negan grabbed Merle by the shoulders, leading him back inside. "You still owe me a game of poker. Hope you're ready to lose."

"The only one losing tonight is you," Merle slurred his words.

Negan laughed. "I doubt that." He roughly brushed Rick's shoulder on his way back into the house.

Rick realized this was his first time almost coming to blows over a woman. It was exhilarating.

* * *

Michonne reveled in the tropical breeze stirring her locs as she mixed two rum and Cokes. The salty aroma of the ocean tickled her senses, making her feel as light as a feather for the first time in a while.

Usually around this time of year, she was up to her neck in cases, trying to complete as much work as possible before the holidays started. If she missed even one holiday dinner, her mother would guilt her well into the new year.

She quartered a lime, squeezing the juice of two sections into each drink before dropping the wedges in as well. She licked the tangy juice from her fingers and wiped her hands down with a damp dish towel.

She joined her guest on the spacious balcony, which overlooked the clear blue waters and white sand of the private beach surrounding the resort.

"Mmm, my favorite," Sasha hummed, accepting the drink Michonne handed her.

"Hands down the best rum in the world," Michonne said, joining her on the double chaise lounge. She leaned back into the white cushions. This was everything she never realized she needed.

"I could get used to this." Sasha grinned underneath her floppy straw hat.

Michonne basked in the sun. "We're only here a few days, so enjoy it while you can."

"You don't need to tell me twice. I've got a date with the fine brotha working the front desk. I almost died and went to heaven when he called me a queen with that accent."

Michonne chuckled. If she'd been in Jamaica alone, she would've been checking out the nightlife right alongside Sasha, enjoying everything the island had to offer, including the wealth of ridiculously gorgeous men.

"You work hard. You deserve to enjoy yourself. Let's head down to the boutique later and pick out an outfit for your date."

Sasha almost fell out of her seat. "I couldn't. Those dresses are like hundreds of dollars."

"It's my treat. Well, the show's treat. They're covering everything, including my wardrobe. There's no way I could spend the entire allowance on my own."

Under circumstances that were stressful at best and chaotic at worst, Sasha had become the younger sister she'd always wanted. Buying her a new wardrobe was the least she could do for her.

"I don't know, it's too much, Michonne. You don't even know me like that."

She noticed the almost pensive shift in Sasha's mood. Her confidante hadn't been her chatty self lately. She not only enjoyed her company but she'd been extremely grateful for having someone to confide in during this whole process. Deciding on who would join her in Jamaica, in addition to sneaking around with Rick, had been almost as taxing as cramming for her bar exam.

"I honestly might have quit this whole thing by now, if it weren't for you. With all this Merle nonsense, I was ready to tell everyone on this show to kiss my black ass."

Before selecting the six guys who would join her in Jamaica, she'd been visited by the Executive Producer of the show. Phillip had wanted to meet with her personally to discuss Merle.

Although he'd been nothing less than a gentleman, something about being alone with him kept her on edge. He'd congratulated her on being the first African American Bachelorette, understanding the weight of being in this position.

"You have an opportunity to bring people together in this country," he'd said. "If you could find common ground with someone like Merle, maybe that could help others do the same."

Michonne had decided to give Merle a chance, on the condition that he be completely sober for the rest of the show. Phillip agreed, telling her to come directly to him with any issues.

She was now wondering if she'd made the right decision. Merle had only lasted this long because he'd flown under the radar and was always on his best behavior when they'd been together.

However, according to Rick, he drank nonstop and got in frequent arguments with the men. He'd even accused Glenn of being a Chinese spy. Glenn was Korean American.

She wasn't sure about giving someone like him a platform, even if she could run circles around him mentally. Her 2-on-1 date with the two men would help her play out a few of her own ulterior motives and hopefully give Glenn a chance to put Merle is his place.

"I have something to tell you," Sasha pulled her back into the present. "And I'm not sure how you're going to take it."

For a split second, she considered that Sasha may have accidentally spilled the beans about her and Rick. But if that were the case, Andrea would have been the first one knocking on her door.

She removed her sunglasses, looking Michonne straight in the eye. "Tyreese is my brother."

Michonne removed her sunglasses in turn, swinging her legs over the chaise to face her head on. "What do you mean he's your brother? You two know each other?"

"He's my older brother."

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"I didn't want our friendship to affect your relationship with him."

She did a mental rewind of all of their past conversations, hoping she hadn't said anything disparaging about Tyreese in Sasha's presence. She was relieved to recall that she'd only mentioned the two of them not having much chemistry and hadn't gone any further than that.

"I get it."

Honestly, though, her trust in the woman she'd considered a friend was wavering a tiny bit. Had she been too impulsive in confiding in her about Rick? She hoped this wouldn't come back to bite her in the ass. "It must've been tough to find out I eliminated him."

"I was surprised." Sasha crinkled her brow. "Tyreese was really into you, more than any other woman he's been with."

"Really?" She found this tidbit of information both surprising and confusing. She was even more uncertain of Tyreese than she'd been before.

"Whenever I had the chance to see him on set, he would go on and on about how beautiful and intelligent you were. How he never believed in love at first sight until he met you that first night, outside the mansion."

Michonne's heart fluttered with guilt. She'd felt an immediate connection with him that night as well, but for some reason they hadn't clicked beyond that. Maybe that reason was Rick.

"He really is an amazing man. He was by far the most difficult one to say goodbye to." She'd cried herself to sleep the night she eliminated him.

Sasha took Michonne's hands in earnest. "I'm not saying this just because he's my brother. You two would be perfect together. He's honestly the best human being I know, with more heart than is good for him sometimes."

"I don't think I'm what he's looking for."

"But he would complement you in so many ways. If you could just spend some more time with him, I'm sure you would see it for yourself."

The conflict between her head and heart raged. When Michonne imagined her future husband, it was someone exactly like Tyreese. Successful, kind, a good sense of humor - and black. "I'll think about it."

Sasha hugged Michonne. "Thank you. If you bring him back, I promise you won't regret it." She jumped up, grabbing their empty glasses. "Next round is on me." She disappeared inside.

Michonne sighed. She'd purposefully avoided making Sasha any promises, but she could at least take what she'd said into consideration.

She watched the sun dip below the horizon, the purple and orange of the sunset contrasting brilliantly with the cobalt blue of the sea. She licked her lips as her thoughts strayed deliciously to Rick and making love to him with the lull of the waves for ambience.

* * *

Michonne could barely hold back the laughter as she watched Merle struggle to get free of Glenn's hold. The knee digging into the larger man's back kept him pinned face down, one half of his face caked with mud.

Security arrived, relieving Glenn and carting off a red-faced Merle.

"You'll pay for this, bitch!" he screeched.

Michonne held back Glenn, who looked ready to put Merle down for the second time that day.

"Don't worry about him," she assured. "He'll get what he deserves. Men like him always do."

"Are you okay?" Glenn asked, brushing the dirt from her knees.

Even before their 2-on-1 date, Michonne had planned on sending Merle home, but not before taking him on an arduous 5-mile hike in the Blue Mountains of Jamaica. Regardless of Phillip's assurances that Merle would be sober for the rest of the show, he'd shown up ruddy-cheeked and wasted, as she'd expected.

During the hike, she and Glenn chatted about his family, while Merle tripped and slipped and grunted behind them, barely keeping up. At one point, they'd even lost sight of him, only to find that he'd fallen into a ditch.

The satisfied smirk on Glenn's face, as Merle finally emerged from the trail an hour after he and Michonne had finished the hike, was enough to make keeping him on the show worth it. She summarily awarded Glenn with the group rose date, eliminating Merle in a blaze of glory.

"Hate has no home on this show, or anywhere else in this country. I want you to remember that a black woman rejected you for the insignificant human being you are."

Rick, who'd managed to join them for the date today and was off on the sidelines, looked very pleased with that last bit.

"I can't believe he put his hands on you," Glenn squinted at the small gash on her knee. He was referring to the aftermath of the elimination, when instead of leaving with what little dignity he had left, Merle decided to lash out instead, waiting until her back was turned to shove her to the ground. Glenn had stepped in right away, debilitating Merle with a sucker punch and pinning him to the ground.

"It's a good thing you were here," Michonne said, massaging his pride, even though she could have taken Merle down if she wanted to. She was a black belt in Brazilian Jiu Jitsu.

"I'm just glad to be rid of that piece of trash, once and for all. Now I can focus on what really matters." He pulled an alcohol swab and bandaid from his pocket, proceeding to clean up and bandage her cut.

She laughed. "You brought your own mini first aid kit?"

"I was a Boy Scout, I'm always prepared."

Glenn never failed to surprise her. As the crew packed up their gear, they talked more about his hometown.

"I'd really love the chance to introduce you to my mom. She would love you."

"Are you sure about that?" Michonne asked, eyebrows raised. She'd only dated a few Asian men in her life, but none had ever brought her home.

"My first girlfriend was Black," Glenn said, addressing her unspoken concerns like a pro.

"Alright then," she smiled, trusting that he would never put her in harm's way.

"I don't know what to say," Andrea interrupted them, looking mildly impressed. "I couldn't have asked for a better shoot."

"We aim to please," Glenn joked.

"I hope you give Merle the edit he deserves," she said to Andrea.

"By the time I'm done with him, the only support he'll have is his AA group."

Michonne could tell she meant it. Before she could thank her, the woman was off to handle the next logistic. She really was a tough nut to crack.

"Ready to head out?" Rick asked when she and Glenn reached the parking lot. "I'll be driving you back to your hotel. Your driver had a family emergency."

From the glint in his eye, she suspected Rick had paid off the driver to take the rest of the day off.

"Sure," she nodded, trying to mask her giddiness. She hugged Glenn before jumping into backseat of the black Jeep Wrangler, Rick shutting the door behind her.

I guess he wants to keep up appearances. she thought, wanting to join him in the front seat.

Rick's blue eyes sparkled in the rearview mirror. "Buckle up, ma'am. It's going to be a rocky ride."

"The rougher the better," she smirked, her desire mounting.

"Good to know." His eyes lowered to her breasts. The thin sports bra did little to mask her pebbled nipples.

Rick started the vehicle, maneuvering carefully on the twists and turns of the steep mountain road. With him in the driver's seat, she felt safe and enjoyed the view that had escaped her during the terrifying ride up the narrow road. There was no need to speak. She just admired the luscious mountain view, partly eclipsed in fog, with the man she…

"We're here," Rick said, parking the car in front of a small hut in the middle of nowhere.

She'd been so entrenched in the view and her busy thoughts that she hadn't noticed that Rick had gone off road.

"Where are we?" she asked, her heart thumping wildly against her rib cage.

"Welcome to Paradise." Rick's eyes, dark with mischief and desire, held onto hers in the rearview mirror.

Rick tried to focus on setting up lunch and not on the sounds of Michonne in the outdoor shower. Her precisely off-key singing would certainly keep any jungle critters away.

The owners of the secluded retreat had delivered a lunch of roasted goat, peas and rice, baked yams and fresh watermelon. But his mouth only watered for Michonne.

They had a few hours before either one of them had to prep for the night's rose ceremony. He planned to make the most of their time together, in one of the most romantic places on the planet.

He decided lunch could wait.

She was in the middle of a mangled verse of "No Woman, No Cry" when he joined her without a stitch of clothing on.

She jumped when he lightly touched her shoulder, almost slipping on the handmade clay tile. He reached out, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him, her soaking buttocks pressed against his groin.

"Rick," she sputtered, looking back at him with eyes half open and her hair sudsy with shampoo. "I could kill you for sneaking up on me."

He laughed, guiding her under the spray of the powerful showerhead. "Let me," he said, lacing his fingers through her locs. He concentrated on the task at hand, rinsing the shampoo from her hair, doing the best to ignore his growing hard-on.

She moaned. "If I'd known I'd get such special treatment, I'd have made a fool of Merle sooner."

Rick chuckled. "You don't know how hard it was for me to do nothing when he dared to put his hands on my woman."

"Your woman, huh?" She turned to face him.

Speckled with water, the sun dancing across her left shoulder, her nipples at attention - if Rick died in this moment, he was grateful this would be the last thing he saw.

"You heard me."

Her hair clear of shampoo, he focused on the woman right in front of him, literally baring her all to him. He slipped his hands down her slick back, not hesitating to grab her round ass with both hands. He easily hoisted her up, Michonne wrapping her legs around his waist, her cheeks riding his stiff member.

She kissed him slowly, sucking and licking the dripping water from his lips, her tongue circling his. He maneuvered their bodies until she was pressed against the smooth rocky wall.

"Oh God, yes," she whispered, as he wasted no time slipping into her, the water and her natural lubricant allowing for quick entry.

His heart raced at the thought that he wore no protection, that she could end up pregnant with his child, and yet she still let me make love to her. Being with her in this way, skin-to-skin, was suddenly the only way they could ever be. They'd been flirting with it this whole time and had finally just taken the leap.

This was his first time having unprotected sex with anyone he wasn't married to and it felt right because it was Michonne.

She moaned loudly as he bounced her up and down on his dick, the stream of warm water beating against his back. He pumped furiously into her. The hidden birds in the trees chirped around them, singing the mating song.

"I'm gonna come," he said, not wanting to pull out.

"Do it," she cried slamming down on his cock, her muscles clenching with her orgasm.

Rick's seed spurted into the dark, warm depths of her, as he came with all the purpose of his being.

After lunch, they made love again, taking the time to explore places they hadn't already been. They'd open all the windows of the hut, which offered a majestic view of the mountains from the comfort of their bed.

Michonne giggled as Rick nuzzled the most ticklish part of her neck with his nose. She squirmed in his arms, feeling him growing hard again.

"Down boy. We need to get going soon." The last thing she wanted was to leave the comfort of his arms, but they were sure to draw suspicion if they stayed for much longer.

"I wish soon was at least a week," Rick said.

A sudden thought hit her like a ton of bricks. "I'll be engaged in a week."

She'd finally spoken what had gone unspoken between them the past couple of weeks, in the hopes of just getting to know him better as a lover and possible life mate. But her obligations as the Bachelorette were real and imminent - she would need to choose a man to propose to her. That was the reason she was even here, right?

Rick's silence sliced her deeper than any sword could. Why did she even have to bring it up? Why couldn't they just stay in this safe cocoon that was all their own, away from he cameras and the obligations and the other men?

Because she was here for a husband and Rick obviously wasn't up for the task.

She slipped out of his arms, keeping her back to him, afraid of what his eyes might reveal if she looked back. She dressed in silence, the warmth seeping out of her as the distance grew between them.

* * *

Rick had become the thing he hated most in life - a coward.

The silence between him and Michonne had continued on the drive back to the resort. He'd wanted to live his truth, to share his true feelings with her, that he saw a future with her. But he'd kept quiet, not wanting to tell her that he couldn't propose to her. How could he? They'd known each other for less than three months.

His punishment was to now watch her being entertained by other men. Men who would propose to her. Men like Negan.

A pat on the back snapped Rick out of his self-pity.

"Michonne really is a star," Phillip said from beside him. He'd flown in that night to oversee the final rose ceremony before the hometown visits. "This is only the beginning for her. And she has you to thank for it."

"Me?" Rick asked, honestly thrown for a loop.

"I heard you had a big hand in helping things run smoothly this season. Andrea can't stop singing your praises."

"I'm genuinely shocked to hear it."

Phillip laughed. "I know it might not seem like it sometimes, but she respects you the most of anyone here. And I don't blame her. You've handled Michonne like a pro. What's your trick?"

Rick wasn't sure where this was going. Maybe Negan had shared his suspicions with Phillip. Either way, he wasn't about to bait the hook.

"Like you said, Michonne is a star. She managed to make this show her own, with her dignity intact. All the credit is to her, not me."

"Let's just hope she chooses Negan. He's the only one who can knock it out of the park."

Rick clenched his jaw. "She's got a tough decision ahead of her."

"She's a smart lady, she'll make the right choice." Phillip patted him on the back. "And Negan will help things along nicely."

"What's he up to?"

"He plans on giving her a promise ring tonight. A promise to propose to her if she selects him."

He hated to admit Negan had made a good move. It pretty much guaranteed his selection for the hometown visits.

And if Michonne chose him in the end, it would guarantee an engagement between the two of them.

Dread was a foreign emotion to Rick, but he felt it hovering in the background, feeding on his doubt.

Negan was right. Michonne deserved a man who would fight for her. Given his inability to act, he wasn't sure if he was that man.


	5. Chapter 5

As Michonne awaited Negan's arrival, she admired the green gem on her right ring finger. In the soft morning light, the color of her birthstone reminded her of the key lime pies she baked with her mother as a child. Negan had pleasantly surprised her once again, offering the ring and a promise to propose if she chose him. She'd accepted the gift but avoided making any guarantees.

They would be flying from Jamaica to Cuba today for their one-on-one date. She was excited about spending time with him in one of her favorite places. Her previous girls' trip had been filled with art, music and dancing. She looked forward to exploring the island with Negan this time around. She was also in desperate need of an escape, after her argument with Sasha last night.

Michonne had decided not to bring Tyreese back onto show and was completely honest with Sasha about wanting to focus on the men who remained.

"None of whom are black," Sasha had said. "What? You think you're too good to marry my brother?" That last bit had stung.

Michonne had kept her cool, knowing Sasha was just being protective of her brother. She apologized for having given her the wrong impression. The conversation ended there, but then Michonne found out this morning that Sasha had quit the show for good. She couldn't help but feel guilty.

And then there was Rick. She tried not to let thoughts of him encroach upon her date. She'd slowly come to terms with her feelings - she was falling in love with him, yet had no clue how he felt about her. It made her yearn for him even more and she hated herself for it. The common denominator in her failed relationships had been falling in love with someone who didn't love her back. She would give her body and soul to the relationship, to her man, only to have him walk away with a piece of her heart. She refused to make the same mistake again. The man who owned her in bed, would not own her heart.

"Hey there, darlin'," Negan said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. Even though she was in heels, he still towered over her; with Rick, they would be at equal heights.

 _Stop comparing him to Rick._

"Hey," she said, falling into the sway of his rocking motion. With Negan, she felt a sense of safety, a sense of protection she'd never allowed herself to seek or accept from a man. With him, it came naturally.

"I missed you," he whispered, pecking her lightly on the neck. "Mmmm, you smell really good, like coconut with a hint of vanilla."

"And you're as disarming as ever," Michonne rolled her eyes facetiously. She enjoyed his confidence and Southern charm, but she had yet to see Negan with his guard down, the real man behind the charisma. "It's good to see you too. You ready for Cuba?"

"I'm ready for you."

She turned to face him and her breath hitched. In a white fedora, bright blue floral shirt and linen pants, he looked more handsome than ever. His radiant smile matched the warmth of the morning sun. He was exactly what she needed.

She kissed him on the cheek before taking his hand and leading him up the stairs of a small jet. The pilot welcomed them personally, letting them know their flight would last just under an hour. After reaching cruising altitude, Negan popped open a bottle of champagne, the foam spilling onto the carpet. He filled the two crystal flutes Michonne held out to him. He leaned in, intertwining arms with her, so they would have to look into each other's eyes as they drank.

"To many more adventures together," he said. They each took a sip. "And to the future mother of my five children."

Michonne choked on her champagne. "Five?" She leaned away.

He nodded. "Of course. With your smarts and my brawn, our little clan would rule this damn world."

She laughed, shaking her head. "That's pretty ambitious for a 46-year-old. You really think you're up to it?"

He smirked. "Honey, my dad was 49 when I was born. And I'm the oldest of three kids. And my engine is revved and ready to go. Just say the word." He kissed her hand.

Michonne's heart flipped at the thought of becoming a mother and raising children with a man who wanted kids as much as she did; a man who wanted her to be the mother of his children. She reached for the bowl of fragrant strawberries, dipping one into a saucer of dark chocolate. She nibbled on the sweet morsel. "Like I said the first night, you're trouble."

Negan leaned over, taking a small bite of the strawberry between her lips. He licked a bit of chocolate from the corner of her mouth. "Mmm hmm. I'll never have another strawberry without chocolate again."

Michonne's cheeks blazed hot.

He held her eyes with his hazel ones. "And like I told you the first night, I know what I want and I'm not afraid to go after it." She found his words refreshing. She needed a man with confidence and clarity, not one that made her question her choices in life.

Negan was refilling their glasses when the small plane began to jerk and bounce like a carriage on a cobblestone road. The champagne made a fizzy mess on the side table, dripping onto the carpet. Michonne clawed the arms of her leather chair. "What's happening?" She struggled to take in air, but just couldn't get it into her lungs. Small planes were notorious death traps.

"Breathe, darlin'," Negan said, moving her right hand from the armrest and lacing his fingers with hers.

They hit another bump and the pilot made an announcement over the intercom, promising they'd be through the turbulence in no time. She began to hyperventilate - her breaths short and wheezy - beginning to feel lightheaded.

"Michonne, look at me," Negan said calmly. "You're going to be okay."

He slid into the seat in front of her. And then he did something she hadn't expected at all - he removed her stiletto. He grabbed the small bowl of melted chocolate, pouring a generous amount onto her red-painted toes.

"What are you doing?" Michonne squeaked.

He began to massage her right foot, the aroma of chocolate filling the cabin. His strong hands kneaded and rubbed and squeezed.

She was starting to feel lightheaded for an entirely different reason. "Ahh," she breathed, when he stroked the arch of her foot, a tinge of arousal shooting to her core.

"Just relax," he said with a wicked smile. He'd found her second most erogenous zone.

"There's a camera in here." The plane was too small to fit a camera crew, so Andrea had a camera mounted in the small cabin.

"Why do you think I chose this spot? I'm blocking the view."

She arched her back when he laced his fingers through her toes, the sticky chocolate creating the most tantalizing sensation. She clenched down below. "Negan..."

By now, the turbulence had stopped, but she'd forgotten all about it. He wiped her foot clean with a damp cloth, bending down to fit her stiletto back over her foot. He returned to his seat beside her, kissing her lightly on the cheek. "All better now."

Negan had this uncanny ability to make her let go and just be. And, for some reason, she trusted he wouldn't take advantage of that.

* * *

"He's not here for the right reasons," Glenn said adamantly.

"What makes you say that?" Rick asked, hoping Glenn would make it clear to the audience why Negan was such a poor choice for Michonne.

"He's more interested in winning than he is in finding true love. Plus, he's a narcissist. The only person a narcissist loves is himself."

"Let's cut there," Andrea said, bringing the interview to an end.

"I couldn't have said it better myself," Rick addressed Glenn, who sat facing him on the plush red couch.

Glenn shook his head. "Negan and I couldn't be further apart, yet we're both still here, in the final stretch. Michonne is an intelligent woman. Can't she see through him?"

Rick wondered the same. "She's only seen the side of Negan that he wants her to see. Sooner or later she'll see the real Negan, hopefully before it's too late."

"I hope you're right. Michonne deserves only the best."

Maggie headed their way, her smile brightening when she saw Glenn. "Hey, Glenn. That was a really great interview just now. You're incredibly photogenic."

"Thanks Maggie," Glenn responded. "Though my mom would disagree with you. She thinks I've got more forehead than is good for me."

Maggie giggled. "Well, I think large foreheads are manly."

Rick crinkled his brow. She wasn't the giggling type.

"That's a first. Thanks for the compliment." Glenn patted Rick on the back. "Great interview, man. Negan can expect a fight on his hands. I'm not giving up a woman like Michonne that easily."

Maggie watched Glenn go, the longing unmistakable.

"Think twice before involving yourself in a love triangle," Rick warned. "Glenn is going all in with Michonne and things can get pretty serious during hometown visits. Meeting family is a huge step in a relationship."

Maggie blushed. "Glenn and I are just friends. And I would never get involved with a contestant, it would be the end of my career."

Rick could sympathize with that last statement. "I just don't want to see you get hurt."

"You shouldn't keep Andrea waiting."

Rick took the hint and headed to the production room, the heart of the beast that was _The Bachelorette_.

 _Who am I to be giving advice, anyway? The woman of my dreams is slipping through my fingers._

Andrea sat alone in the production room, which was essentially a spare family room filled with televisions, computers and various video production equipment. She swiveled from side to side in an executive chair as she watched the latest footage on the big screen: Michonne and Negan in Cuba. Michonne looked casual and sexy in jean cutoffs and a red tank top displaying the toned midriff he often drowned in wet kisses.

He imagined how different things might have been if he'd met Michonne outside of the show. No secrets, no hiding. He could have invited her to Jamaica with the kids to explore the island together. The thought of family time with Michonne made his heart swell.

"Close the door," Andrea said with her back still to him.

"Hello to you too," Rick said, shutting the door behind him.

He took the seat next to her, annoyed at now seeing Michonne and Negan in a hot tub.

"I'm pretty sure Michonne has made her final decision, but I need your opinion on this one," Andrea mused.

Michonne's locs were now pulled into the sloppy bun he'd grown to love, her skin dotted with water droplets. Rick almost growled when she trailed a wet finger across Negan's chest tattoo. "What exactly do you need me for?" Rick asked.

"Just wait," Andrea said.

Negan reached over and lifted Michonne into his lap. She placed her arms around his neck. Rick sniffed.

"Has anyone ever told you how incredible you are?" Negan crooned.

Michonne smiled. "I tell myself everyday."

Negan's expression grew serious. "Sometimes, it feels like all of this is too good to be true. Having the opportunity to interact with someone like you, to make you smile and laugh, to hold you like this, to have you look at me the way you do. I don't deserve it."

"Is it the bikini that's making you so sentimental?" Michonne joked. "Some men don't know how to handle it."

Negan looked into Michonne's eyes with intent. "I have something to tell you, but I'm afraid you'll never look at me the same if I do."

Michonne moved from his lap, giving him her full attention. "Do you want to take this inside? The hot tub might not be the right place for a confession."

"I'm a recovering sex addict."

Rick laughed. "Shocker." He turned to Andrea. "Is this what you wanted me to see? There's no way Michonne is picking him."

"Keep watching," Andrea smirked.

Michonne paused for a beat and then nodded slowly. "How long were you...addicted?"

"At the peak of my baseball career, so about three years." Negan sounded nervous, almost stumbling over the words.

"Wow," Michonne considered. "I'm assuming there were a lot of women during that time."

Negan cringed, which surprised Rick. The prick had an inkling of humility after all. "Yes. During that time in my career, I was in high demand, especially among women. I've always struggled with anxiety and depression, and sex was an easily accessible distraction from those feelings. My mom finally threatened to disown me if I didn't get help. I've been in recovery for the past seven years."

"And you've been celibate during that time?" Michonne asked quietly.

"No, but I've only had sex in long-term, monogamous relationships. And, in case you're worried, I've always used protection and gotten myself tested annually for STDs. I'm clean."

"Why are you telling me this now?"

The raw vulnerability in Negan's expression reached Rick. Just a little. "Because I'm falling in love with you, Michonne. I needed to put all my cards on the table, sooner rather than later."

Michonne smiled with sympathy and…something more. "Thank you for telling me. I care about you too. I've struggled with depression several times in my life and have made some awful decisions because of it. The fact that you've put in the time to get help and have been in recovery so long speaks volumes. Not many people could do it." She kissed him tenderly and Rick's heart dropped. "I'm licensed to practice in Virginia."

"What?" Negan asked.

"I'm licensed to practice law in Virginia," Michonne said. "I just thought you should know."

Negan laughed. "So when you come to visit my family in Alexandria, you can just move into my place and never leave."

Michonne laughed and kissed him again. Andrea paused the footage on the two locking lips. Rick looked away. "So what do you think?" she asked.

Rick struggled to keep a straight face while his thoughts and emotions went wild. He hadn't known that tiny fact about Michonne. He knew she practiced law in their hometown of Dallas, but that was it. In all the time they'd spent together, she'd never mentioned being licensed in other states. And then he realized just how little talking they had done. He hadn't taken the time to really get to know her. His attraction to her was so intense, he'd let it trump the intimacy in their relationship.

"I think hometown visits are coming up and the man who wins over her family, will win her heart."

"Not necessarily. Considering the chemistry between these two, Negan would have to curse out her sweet little grandmother to not make it to the final two and win this thing. He's the frontrunner, by a wide margin. She seems to be genuinely falling for him. Unless you know something I don't." She watched him closely, the hint of a smirk on her lips.

"I know Michonne deserves only the best and Negan isn't it." Rick tried to convince himself of this more than Andrea.

"Some women believe in Mr. Right. Others believe in Mr. Right Now. For someone as cerebral and rational as Michonne, my bet is on the latter."

Rick's only chance of keeping Michonne was to become the one and only option. He was definitely her Mr. Right, he just needed a plan to make her believe he could be Mr. Right Now on top of it.

* * *

Michonne never tired of the perks of being the Bachelorette. Instead of having to trek all the way to baggage claim, lug her bags through the airport and wait for a car, her ride would be picking her up directly on the tarmac.

Negan's family home in Virginia would be the final hometown visit. Her first trip had been to Los Angeles, to meet Glenn's friends and family. Everyone had been welcoming and friendly, sharing stories about all the trouble Glenn had gotten into as a youth. His mother, however, had been a hard nut to crack, not sure if she wanted her son to marry someone who was dating three men at the same time. Michonne had eventually won her over, impressing her with knowledge of Korean food and customs, which she'd been studying the last few weeks, as well as her understanding of Glenn's personality and background. Seeing Glenn with his family further convinced her what a great husband and father he would be.

The trip to Abraham's hometown near Houston had been an adventure. They'd gone for ATV rides with his favorite cousins - all seven of them. And then over to his aunt's house for dinner. She had raised Abraham after his parents died in a car accident. It was clear where he'd picked up his penchant for using "bullshit" in every other sentence. Seeing Abraham in his home environment, away from the mansion and the other men, endeared him even more to her. He loved and cared for his aunt in a way that was rare nowadays. She'd enjoyed herself immensely and looked forward to seeing Abraham again in a few days.

Though neither man had confessed their love to her just yet, she could tell they both had feelings for her. Each man expressed affection in his own unique way and made her feel like the center of the world. Possibly having to send one of them home would be an incredibly difficult decision. This last trip to Negan's hometown would hopefully provide some clarity about who the final two would be.

A shiny black Escalade pulled up to her. "Good Afternoon, Ms. Jordan," the driver said, opening the rear door.

"Afternoon," Michonne said, halting when she noticed the man in the back seat.

"Michonne," Rick said intimately, as though she belonged to him. "How was your flight?"

"Is this some kind of mistake? Am I in the wrong car?"

"Of course not. We've got some business to discuss."

Michonne sighed and slipped into the back seat with him, keeping as much distance between the two of them as possible. She'd hardly spoken to him since their private Jamaican getaway. She kept her shades on to protect herself from the allure of his baby blue eyes. She strummed her fingers along her Italian leather purse, training her gaze straight ahead.

"Driver, can you turn it to Hot 97, please?" Michonne asked, once they'd made it to the highway.

"Sure thing, Ma'am," the driver responded. The entrancing vocals of Ari Lennox singing "Backseat" displaced the silence. It happened to be one of the most played songs on Michonne's playlist and she wanted to enjoy the serendipity of the moment. But being around Rick made it hard to think of anything but him.

"This is nice," Rick said, sliding a few inches closer to her. "I've never heard it before."

"Hm," was her only response. She focused on cooling the growing heat between her thighs at thoughts of all the positions Rick could put her in a backseat this size.

"We haven't had a chance to talk."

"So you decided to ambush me before a hometown visit?"

"It's not an ambush. I felt like the last time we spoke, I didn't have a chance to express what I wanted to."

Michonne pulled off her shades, hoping he could see the anger he'd just unleashed. "You had over an hour on the drive back to the set to tell me how you felt and you said nothing. Why should I give you the chance now?"

"Because I'm ready to say now what I was unable to say then." Rick slid a bit closer, placing his hand on her thigh, just shy of the hem of her leather miniskirt. "Michonne, I love you."

Michonne removed his hand from her thigh, adorning the shades once again. "Thank you for sharing your thoughts."

Rick paused. "Obviously, I'm not saying this right. I-"

"No, Rick, you've stated your feelings perfectly. You love me. So what?"

"So what? I care about you deeply. I love you, damnit."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And what exactly are you offering me? You know what I want, why I've put myself through the scrutiny and stress of being in this position. I want a future with someone."

"We _can_ have a future together. And I think it scares you."

"What makes you think you know me so well? The little amount of time we've spent together has been in bed. Even Negan knows more about me than you do."

"It's true, we haven't had the chance to spend a lot of time together. And most of that time has been devoted to lovemaking, but don't tell me I don't know you. I know that you won a national spelling bee in the 4th grade. That you like to sleep on the side of the bed furthest from the door. That you talk in your sleep. That you go to church every Sunday and volunteer at the soup kitchen whenever you have the spare time. That you only became a lawyer because your father wanted you to. Don't tell me I don't know you."

Everything Rick said was true. Some of those things she had shared with him and others were things she'd shared during the process of being selected for the show. He'd obviously familiarized himself with her dossier, which was both flattering and creepy.

"Look, Rick. It's not that we couldn't be something. It's clear we have chemistry, both inside and outside of the bedroom. You're a wonderful father and you work so hard for your family and to achieve your dreams. You have all the qualities I'm looking for in a husband."

His hand crept up her thigh. "Then what's the problem?"

"I've made the mistake of thinking 'I love you' would lead to something more. To marriage, to a family. I refuse to make that mistake again."

He slipped his hand under her skirt, caressing her inner thigh. "What we have could lead to all of that. I just want time to learn everything I can about you, your ambitions and fears, your favorite movies...your deepest fantasies."

He pushed aside her panties, rubbing her swollen, budding pearl. Michonne panted as the sensation built between her thighs. He moved his other hand underneath her shirt, massaging her breast through her lace bra.

"I love you," he whispered, tweaking her nipple.

Michonne bit her lip to keep herself from crying out.

"Please don't give up on us," he said, his lips caressing the most sensitive crook of her neck.

Michonne rubbed his growing erection through his jeans. "I love you too."

"Then don't give up on us," he moaned softly as she squeezed his cock.

"Oh," she whispered. "I'm close."

"You don't know how badly I want to be inside of you right now."

She was on the verge of coming, when the car came to a stop. They both removed their hands, Michonne adjusting her clothing.

"Shit," Rick whispered.

"We're here," the driver said, exiting the car, probably aware of what they'd been up to in the backseat. The shame she felt at what had transpired between the two of them; the fear of what might have happened if they'd been caught, sobered her almost immediately.

"I get it, Rick. You love having sex with me. You may even actually love me. But you're not ready to commit."

"What I just said, and did, was very much a commitment."

"You're right. A commitment to be my lover."

"And very likely more."

Her feelings for Rick made it so much harder to say goodbye, but she needed to do what was best for her future. "If the circumstances were different, I might consider forgoing my own desires for yours. For giving you the time that you need, while my time to start a family shortens. You would be worth it." The decision came to her as clearly as a cloudless night. "But there are other men I care about, who are ready and willing to give me exactly what you can't. If you really do love me, like you say, you'll let me go."

Michonne kissed him one last time before opening the car door and walking away from the only man she might ever truly love.

* * *

Michonne burped, groaning at the acidic bite of alcohol that came with it. "I never want another shot of tequila in my life."

She leaned into Negan, her head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped tightly around her, they watched the sunset from a bench on the porch of his childhood home. He pulled the quilt tighter around their shoulders.

Michonne could hear the laughter in his voice. "I told you my mom could drink, but you didn't believe me."

"I just wanted her to like me." She took a gulp of the chill evening air, the spinning in her head beginning to subside.

"I'll ask her when she wakes up."

Michonne chuckled. "Don't be such a dick, Rick."

"What'd you call me?"

Drinking led to serious tongue slips. "Sorry, Negan."

"It's okay, darlin'."

"Visiting your family, getting to know your mom and siblings, I was really honored to be a part of that today."

"My niece is gonna roast me if you're not with me the next time I visit."

"Well, there's a good chance I will be."

He lifted her chin. "Don't get my hopes up."

"You have nothing to worry about."

"In that case, I may as well go all in." He planted a smoldering kiss on her lips. "I love you, Michonne. And I can't wait to marry you."

* * *

"What're you gonna do?" Rick asked Michonne, the cameras rolling. She looked dazzling as usual, in a shimmering black sequin dress, smoky eyeliner and red lipstick. It only made him ache for her more.

"I honestly don't know," Michonne said, her eye contact fleeting. She had yet to look him straight in the eye. "Glenn and I have so much in common and have a lot of fun together. Abraham makes me laugh and comes from a similar military family background. And then Negan…" She looked just slightly over his right shoulder, avoiding eye contact completely. "He's offering me the world. He told me he loves me and I believe him 100%." The three men awaited Michonne over in the next room.

 _I should do it. Confess my love to the world and show her just how much I can't live without her._

But Rick loved Michonne way too much to risk her career and reputation for his own selfish interest. It would also be unfair if he were unwilling to propose to her on the spot.

"Good luck tonight and may you-"

A commotion offscreen drew their attention.

"Merle!" Rick heard Andrea yell into his earpiece.

A gunshot rang out. Crew members screamed and scattered, scrambling for the nearest exit. Rick sprang for Michonne, bringing them both to ground, obscured in the tight space between the coffee table and couch.

"Rick!" Michonne yelled.

"Shhh, quiet." Rick whispered, just as the production room door opened. From their spot on the floor, they lacked a clear view of who had just entered the room. He kept his arms tightly wound around Michonne, lying on top of her. The hotel sitting room wasn't large enough for them to stay hidden much longer.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are," Merle drawled in a sing-song voice. "I know you're in here."

 _What the hell is Merle doing here? Is he the one with the gun?_

Footsteps came to a stop at the back of the couch.

"I see you," Merle sang, laughing. "Now get up, so I can get a good look at ya." Even from a few feet away, Rick could smell the liquor on him.

Michonne trembled in his arms."It's okay," Rick whispered in her ear. "I got you."

He recalled Michonne mentioning being held hostage by a disgruntled client at her workplace and how she suffered from panic attacks. She seemed to be on the verge of one right now.

"You're with me," Rick said, squeezing her gently.

"Rick, I can't…I can't do this," Michonne panted.

"I promise I won't leave you." He grabbed her hand and lifted her up to stand with him. "We're in this together."

"Seems to be what got ya'll in trouble in the first place," Merle said, pointing his pistol at Rick's chest.

"What is this Merle? What do you want?" Rick asked. He noticed the room was empty. They were the only ones who hadn't managed to escape. He should've gotten Michonne out of there.

"I _want_ to understand why my Nubian Queen here, chose you over me."

* * *

 **A/N: This one was a long time coming, as it took me a while to figure out exactly where this was going. If anyone watched Rachel Lindsay's season finale, you know how poorly it all ended. Even the proposal scene was badly filmed and planned. I had some raw feelings about the producers and show in general and will probably never watch the show again. I'm waiting for a show with an African-American Bachelorette every season. (If you know of one, please let me know!) I'm sure my disappointment has affected my desire to work on this story and sorry for keeping you all waiting for so long. The next chapter will be the last one and I plan to give Richonne the happy ending they deserve. Thanks again for your patience, reviews, follows and faves!**


	6. Chapter 6

A wave of nausea hit Michonne like a punch to the gut. She breathed in deeply through her nose, attempting to ease the tightening pain in her chest.

"You don't look so good, gal," Merle said, taking another swig from his steel flask. He sat across from her and Rick, a silver pistol resting on his thigh, the source of Michonne's dread. "Serves you right for kickin' me off the show." He reeked of alcohol.

"She needs a doctor, Merle," Rick said, his arm cradling her shoulders. "She's having a panic attack."

Merle aimed the pistol at Rick's chest and Michonne bit her lip to keep from crying out. "How would you know? You a doctor now, Cassanova?"

"You don't need the gun," Michonne said. "We can talk without it."

Merle chuckled. "Talk? You said plenty before security hauled me off like some criminal. I lost my job because of you. Way I figure it, you owe me."

Michonne could feel the walls closing in on her. How had Merle slipped past security? Wouldn't they know not to let this maniac back on the set?

"What do you want from us?" Rick remained calm enough for the both of them. The sound of _us_ on his lips comforted her. They were in this together.

"If you don't want me to reconsider lettin' you live, then you best keep your mouth shut. This is between me and the lady."

Bile rose at the back of Michonne's throat. Maybe if she'd realized sooner who Merle really was, she could have eliminated him the first night and avoided all of this. "Let him go and we can talk," she heard herself say, shocked by this sudden burst of courage.

"Michonne," Rick said in the tone of a grade school teacher giving her a warning.

She reached out her shaky hand, giving his forearm a light squeeze. "I'll be fine, he won't hurt me."

"How can you be so sure?" Merle asked with a sloppy grin.

"Because you care about me," she said with a straight face. Odd as it was, she knew it was true.

In her initial interactions with Merle, she'd honed in on the insecurity beneath the bravado, which had surprisingly endeared him to her. Her father was the same kind of man - tough as nails on the outside, soft as a marshmallow on the inside. His sense of humor and uncanny gentleness with her was the reason he'd made it so far on the show.

But Merle's drinking had twisted his insecurity into something darker. She was sure this whole incident was fueled by the hard liquor burning through his system. She had to use whatever she had at her disposal to talk him down and that amounted to his feelings for her. Rick's presence would only interfere with her plan.

"Let Rick go and I'm all yours," Michonne said, her smile shaky.

Merle squinted his eyes, considering her proposal. "As you wish."

"No," Rick said with force. "I'm not leaving you ."

Michonne turned him to face her, projecting a confidence she didn't feel. "I need to handle this alone." It had all become clear. This was her chance to get things right the second time around.

The last time she'd been held hostage, a woman had died and she hadn't been able to forgive herself. She refused to have Rick's blood on her hands.

Rick moved to speak and she silenced him with a kiss. It felt like ages since she'd felt those soft lips on her own. More than anything, she wanted to become familiar with those lips again, to taste and suck and massage his mouth with her tongue. For now, she just wanted him to do as she asked.

Michonne pulled away, searching for the surrender she needed from him.

Rick pulled his lips into a thin line and she thought he might refuse. He nodded tightly. "Five minutes and then I'm coming back for you."

Michonne almost changed her mind at the look of hesitation in his eyes. "Agreed."

"Time's a wastin'," Merle said, twirling his pistol in the direction of the door.

"Five minutes," Rick addressed Michonne.

She smiled and nodded, her gut twisting as she she watched him go.

"I'm impressed," Merle said. "I thought you'd be shakin' in your four inch heels by now."

"There are better ways to get my attention," Michonne said. The outrage she felt at being held at gunpoint helped her cut through some of the fear.

"This way's a lot more fun." Merle lay the pistol on his lap and took another sip of his drink.

"Can I have some of that?" Michonne nodded to his flask.

He smiled before handing it over. She tilted her head back and took a deep swig. The alcohol burned her throat, unleashing a round of painful coughs.

Merle laughed, taking the flask back. "Moonshine. Made it myself."

Michonne felt lightheaded, from the coughing or liquid fire, she couldn't tell. "Did someone put you up to this?" Their five minutes would be up soon and she hated to think what might happen if Rick returned.

Merle smirked. "I might've had some help."

"Who?"

"Uh uh, Counselor. I ask the questions."

Michonne nodded, surrendering the floor to the man holding the gun.

"How did it feel playing us, while you were bumping uglies with Rick?"

She sighed, deciding to go with honesty. "It wasn't my intention to start anything with Rick. It just happened."

"He gonna marry you?"

Leave it to Merle to ask her the very question she'd been afraid to ask herself. "I don't know."

"So you kept everyone else on the back burner. Just in case?" Merle laughed in disgust. "We never had a chance, did we?"

Michonne doubted Merle's feelings ran that deep for her. Something else was going on. "This is about your brother, isn't it? Daryl."

That surprised him. "That brat never could keep his mouth shut."

"He felt obligated to apologize for your horrendous behavior. And I knew you couldn't be all that bad if you had a brother like Daryl who loved you."

"And yet you made a fool of him. Of all of us."

"I'm sorry, Merle." And she meant it. She'd been selfish. Being the object of attention and admiration, from a group of remarkable men, had made her greedy. She'd been committed to her own pleasure rather to the men who'd invested their time and energy to pursue her. Crossing the line with Rick, while continuing to date the other men, had been unfair to everyone involved. "I've got daddy issues." She joked, not sure what else to say.

A raspy chuckle escaped his throat. "Who doesn't?"

"This isn't you, Merle. I don't know who put you up to this, but they're using you. The way I've been used. We're just puppets to them and they pull our strings every which way." As she spoke the words, she again considered whether Rick's feelings for her were genuine, or if this was just some kind of game he played with the talent. "We're better than they think we are."

Merle nodded, looking off into the distance. "I just wanted a chance with you. I'm not that bad of a guy, when I'm not drinkin'."

Michonne held back a giggle, the moonshine kicking in. "I know you aren't. Why do you think I kept you on the show for so long? You're a good guy, Merle. You've just had some really shit role models in your life."

Daryl had shared the story of their upbringing with her, an alcoholic dad who beat them on a daily basis. She knew the source of Merle's rage and discontent with the world, which didn't differ all that much from her own.

She was sure her five minutes were almost up. "Just give me the gun, Merle. And then we can spend some time together, get to know each other."

"Do you love him?"

His question threw her off. "What?"

"Tell me if you love Rick and I'll give you the gun."

"I don't know. I don't think so." But in reality, when the hurt and confusion around her feelings for Rick dissipated, all that was left was love.

Merle put the pistol on the coffee table between them. "How 'bout another drink?"

Michonne exhaled. She looked at the man who'd just held her hostage, realizing these last few minutes the fear had disappeared, the panic pressed to the back of her mind. She knew deep down Merle would never have hurt her and, in a way, had actually helped her figure out her next move. "I wouldn't mind another sip of that moonshine."

* * *

"Sasha?" Rick asked in disbelief.

"She tweeted about you and Michonne an hour before Merle showed up," Andrea said.

"But I thought she and Michonne were friends."

"Turns out she was also Tyreese's sister. I doubt she was happy about Michonne rejecting him on national TV, especially knowing that you and her were getting busy in private." Andrea laughed to herself. "I wondered why she quit her job so abruptly."

The two of them met alone in the privacy of the control room. All of the TV screens were powered off, a first in the history of the show. One had a bullet hole through the center, courtesy of Merle's drunken shooting.

"He couldn't have pulled this off without help." Rick was certain this had been an inside job. This person may not have put the gun in Merle's hand, but whoever it was had given him access to Michonne, a crime punishable by death in Rick's book.

"I completely agree. Dale is looking into it." Andrea leaned back in her chair. Rick appreciated her calm, it was the only thing keeping him from going down to the police station and strangling Merle with his bare hands.

"Good. Luckily, Michonne was able to handle Merle on her own. But whoever was behind this couldn't have known it would go down like that. He - or she - put her life at risk and doesn't get to hide in the shadows."

Andrea sighed. "Trust me for once, will you? I'm as pissed about this as you are. I'm responsible for this show - for Michonne - and I take that responsibility very seriously. Whoever sabotaged us will regret it."

Rick nodded. Andrea had less than ethical means of managing the show and its contestants, but she never lied. And if she said she could get it done, he trusted she would. Her reputation was on the line as much as Michonne's. Women producers rarely got second chances in this business.

"What we need to worry about now is cleaning up this PR nightmare," Andrea continued. "If we don't handle this right, this could mean the end of the show."

Once Michonne had returned to her hotel room safely, along with two bodyguards posted outside of her door, Rick had been able to turn his mind to the matter of salvaging her reputation. A scandal could have serious repercussions on her relationships and career, even years from now.

"I've got an idea," Rick said. It would be a gamble, but if he was right about Andrea, she would be more than open to taking the risk. "Not only will it help Michonne, but it could give us the highest ratings we've ever seen."

Andrea leaned forward. "I'm listening."

* * *

Negan lingered silently on the other end of the couch, awaiting Michonne's response. She gripped her half-empty wine glass.

"I can't leave," she said resolutely.

"You think this was an accident? All that security and Merle still managed to get to you," Negan said, the vitriol in his tone not lost on Michonne. He took a breath before continuing, "Your safety is all that matters. Screw this show."

Michonne considered her next words carefully. "I appreciate your concern. But I'm perfectly capable of making decisions for myself. And I'm not quitting the show."

Negan sighed. "You're the most stubborn woman I've ever met. No wonder I lose sight of myself when I'm not with you." He paused for a while, his gaze unyielding. Then he moved quickly, kneeling in front of her. He took her hands in his own. "I know this isn't how we planned for this to go, but Michonne-"

A knock at the door halted his words. Michonne jumped up from the couch. "Coming," she called, darting for the door, relieved for the interruption. She had a good idea of what he'd been about to say and she wasn't ready to hear it, not quite sure she could trust her response after all that had happened. She could feel the growing throb of an oncoming migraine.

Michonne opened the door to find Rick on the other side, holding a bottle of wine. "I hope it's not too late, but I wanted to check on you, make sure you're doing alright."

Michonne froze like a deer in the headlights. Rick and Negan, in close proximity, in the privacy of her hotel room - this could only end badly. She snatched the bottle of wine from his hands. "Malbec. My favorite," she sputtered out. "Thanks for the wine, but I'm not really in the mood to talk right now," she said as she began to close the door on him. Better to blow him off than risk these alpha males coming to blows. Though the thought of two good-looking men rolling around on the carpet, duking it out to win her heart, appealed to her more trashy side.

Rick placed a hand on the door to still it, his eyes pleading tenderly. "I need to see you. Today was…" he ran trembling fingers through his curls, "leaving you alone with him was the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. If anything had happened to you, I just…I don't know what I would've done."

He reached out to caress her cheek. "You mean more to me than I think you realize."

Michonne leaned into his touch, shutting her eyes. "Rick, this isn't a good time."

"Why not?" Negan said from behind, startling her.

Rick's hand dropped from her cheek. She opened her eyes to find him staring over her shoulder. "Was I interrupting something?"

"Not at all," Negan said, towering over her. He placed a hand above hers on the door, opening it wider. "Join us. If Michonne doesn't mind, that is."

"Negan just came by to check on me," Michonne said quickly, not sure why she felt the need to explain herself to Rick. She was a grown woman, she could invite whomever she wanted into her hotel room.

 _Then why do I feel like a teenager caught making out in her bedroom?_

"I need to talk to you both anyway," Rick said, straightening his posture a bit. "Saves me a trip."

Michonne looked between the two men. If she asked Negan to leave, she would feel guilty. If she asked Rick to leave, she would feel even guiltier. "Come in," she said, backing into Negan as she opened the door completely.

Negan placed a hand on her shoulder as Rick entered, his eyes laser-focused on the hand.

"I'll just open the wine," Michonne said, darting into the kitchen after the men took their seats in the living room.

Unease sunk into her bones as she poured the wine. Maybe Rick was here to deliver news about the show. She hadn't heard so much as a peep from Andrea, which was unusual for a control freak like her.

Were they cancelling the show? Not only would she be the first black Bachelorette, but she'd also be the first to not end up with a proposal. After all she'd been through, an engagement was the least they owed her.

Michonne started mentally calculating the cost of suing the show, as she walked back into the living room with a tray holding three glasses of wine. She passed them out to Rick and Negan, taking a seat in the armchair to avoid sitting between them.

"So…" Negan said, breaking the silence. "This is awkward."

Michonne coughed, holding back a nervous laugh. Leave it to Negan to break the ice with a sledgehammer. Awkward didn't even begin to describe it.

"How so?" Rick asked with a straight face. "You already knew about me and Michonne."

"What?" Michonne asked. This was the first she'd heard of it.

"He saw me come out of your hotel room." Rick glanced at her apologetically. "I should've been more careful."

"Why didn't you say anything?" Michonne addressed Negan.

"It wasn't my place. And I'm not threatened by your relationship with Rick because I know I'm the better choice for you." Negan smiled in that smug way Michonne was embarrassed to admit she found sexy.

Rick, on the other hand, looked like he wanted to wipe him from the face of the earth. "I'm throwing my hat into the ring," he said, his unrelenting gaze causing her breath to catch. "I'm going to be part of the final two."

"What?" Michonne and Negan said in unison.

"If you'll have me, I want a chance to propose to you."

"What about Glenn and Abraham?" Michonne had trouble believing Rick could become a final contestant. "I haven't even selected the final two yet."

"They bowed out to give me a chance. It didn't take much to convince them that I'm madly in love with you."

"And are you? That in love with me?"

Not missing a beat, "I am."

Michonne's heart leapt into her throat. She paced the living room. "Why? I mean, you don't even want to get married again."

"That was before I imagined living without you. I don't want to be with anyone but you."

"Andrea put you up to this?" Negan asked.

Rick faced him. "No, it was my idea."

"Idea?" Michonne paused. "So this is all for the show?"

"I won't lie and say this isn't about more than us ending up together. It was the only way I could think to protect you from the backlash. And this crisis gave me the push I needed to see past my fear and stop running from my feelings for you."

"Sounds like a steaming pile of bullshit to me," Negan chimed in. "He's just doing this for the ratings."

"Are you?" Michonne asked Rick. She swallowed down the disappointment.

He rose to stand in front of her, gently gripping her forearms. "The two aren't mutually exclusive. If we save the show, we save you. I'm doing this all for you."

She shook his hands away. "I need to think." Michonne turned her back on the two men. "Leave, please."

"Take your time, darlin'," Negan spoke. "My offer to leave is still open. Forget about this show. You need to do what's best for you."

Footsteps headed away from her and she heard the swish of her front door open and close.

"Michonne, look at me. Please," Rick said.

Michonne exhaled audibly before turning to face him. His announcement had her more confused than ever and she just wanted to be alone.

Rick stood his ground, not moving to touch her. She hoped her death glare was the reason for him keeping his distance.

"I know this is sudden. I would've preferred to spend more time with you, introduce you to my friends and family, and then propose. But the circumstances are less than ideal. The moments we've shared - getting to know each other intimately - have been some of the happiest in my life. And I refuse to let this happiness slip through my hands. I'm willing to do whatever it takes, including getting down on one knee and proposing to you."

Before she could respond, Rick left her alone with her raging thoughts.

Without a doubt, she loved this man. With almost complete certainty, she wanted to marry him and start a family together. Their future, blended family was crystal clear in her mind.

But could she trust him? Was marriage really what he wanted or was he proposing just to hold onto her? Did it really matter?

Michonne filled her glass to the brim with Rick's wine. The night was going to be a long one.

* * *

"Why do you want to marry my daughter?" Michonne's father, the judge, had spoken.

Rick and Negan sat on either side of her at the large mahogany dining table. This was the the house she'd grown up in, yet having them by her side made the place feel anything but familiar. Michonne wanted to crawl into a hole to escape the sudden silence in the room.

Negan cleared his throat. "Michonne is unlike anyone I've ever met. She's as clever as she is beautiful. In this short amount of time, she's come to understand and accept me, in a way that even my family hasn't, and I love her for it. I want this extraordinary woman to become the mother of my children, more that I've wanted anything in my whole life."

Michonne's older sister, Rochelle, snickered across the table and Michonne glared at her.

"And you, Rick? How do you feel about her?" her mother asked in the gentlest of tones.

Michonne masked her surprise. Her father had lead the questioning for the night and this was one of the few times her mother had spoken up. She normally just let her father take the lead. Michonne's heart thumped in anticipation of his answer.

Rick turned to face Michonne, taking her hand in his sweaty one. He'd been uncharacteristically nervous the entire dinner. "I never felt loneliness until I thought I might lose her. I know I've failed at marriage before, but Michonne makes me believe that love really can last a lifetime. And, honestly, I just want to spend as much of my life with her as possible."

Michonne felt tears come to her eyes, as he conveyed his love for her not only in his words but in the twinkle of his clear blue eyes. He really was in love with her.

"Well," her sister said. "If you don't marry him, I will."

A light laughter broke out at the table, her father and Negan the only two not joining in.

"It's time for dessert," Michonne said, making her way for the kitchen. She needed to breathe after Rick's heartfelt confession.

In the kitchen, she placed both hands onto the cool counter. Her body hummed with delight, pleasure…and fear. Rick had the ability to make her melt with just a few words and it was unsettling and exhilarating all at once.

"Neither one is right for you," her father said, joining her in the kitchen.

He stood on the other side of the counter, arms crossed, expression stern as usual. "Not right for the family."

Michonne had never been close to her father growing up. He was the disciplinarian in the family and took his duty seriously. She attributed her success as a lawyer to the hard lessons he'd given her a child, to never settle for anything but the best - best grades, best schools, best jobs. But one thing she wouldn't let him decide for her would be the best choice for a husband.

"The family isn't going to marry one of them, I am. And I can see either one of them as a husband." Who that would be in the end, she still had no clue.

"You do realize they're just using you, right? This whole process is a fantasy, a joke. These white men will build their careers off your back and you'll be left with nothing in the end. I've worked too hard to have you give this family a bad name." Her father spoke with a finality that both infuriated her and made her feel like the seven year-old girl who could never win his approval.

"With all due respect, Sir, you're wrong," Rick said, entering the kitchen and coming to stand by her side. "Michonne has the highest approval ratings of any Bachelorette in the history of the show. And that's entirely due to her ability to make all of America want to know and become her. I realize I don't come close to deserving her, but if she chooses me, I want to become the man who deserves a woman as singularly phenomenal as her."

"Rick," she said, at a loss for words, which was usually the case when he touched the deepest parts of her.

"Well said, Son," her father said. She caught the smallest of smiles on his face before he returned to the dining room. When was the last time she'd seen him smile?

Rick exhaled, laughing to himself. "I must really love you to actually look forward to having that man as a father-in-law."

Michonne laughed with him, letting the tension of the strenuous day melt away.

* * *

"Do it," Rick said, standing outside of his hotel room.

"Are you sure?" Andrea asked from the other side of the phone.

He radiated with anger, wishing he could get his hands on the man who'd put the woman he loved in harm's way. "Phillip deserves a lot worse."

"Okay. But he'll likely take us to court."

"His career will be over, that's what matters."

Phillip had been behind the entire Merle fiasco. From baiting the man into finding Michonne to convincing one of the security guards to provide the gun, promising no one would get hurt.

Andrea's research had revealed Phillip's ties to an active white supremacist group and she planned to send the information to the press, as well as the police. Only Rick's concern for Michonne's safety kept him from acting on his rage and taking that trash out physically.

"I've been waiting years to push him out. His behavior with past Bachelorettes has been less than respectable, but I never had the means to take him down until now," Andrea said.

"Thank you, for being there for Michonne."

"I did this for the both of you. You two deserve to be happy."

"I appreciate that," Rick said, knowing how much it took for her to offer her best wishes. "Now I just have to convince this woman to marry me."

"I doubt it will be as hard as you think. Have a good night, Rick."

"You too, boss."

Andrea chuckled. "Not yet, but soon."

Rick ended the call, smiling to himself. Andrea would make an excellent Executive Producer and he looked forward to working closely with her as a producer in his own right.

Rick slipped his key card into the lock, opening his hotel room door to find Michonne sprawled out on his bed in the skimpiest lingerie he'd ever seen in his life.

"Michonne," he gasped as the door slammed shut behind him.

"You're late," she said, her movements painfully seductive as she rose from the bed and stalked his way. "And I hate to be kept waiting."

Rick gulped, his eyes taking in the black lace thong and matching see-through bra displaying the taut brown nipples that made his mouth water.

She greeted him with a deep kiss, her wet tongue stirring his manhood. He moaned as she flicked open the top button of his jeans.

His hands gripped her thighs, slowly moving back to massage her naked ass.

"Yes," she whispered into his mouth. Her hand slid down his abs before sliding into his boxer briefs, her slender fingers wrapping around his painfully hard cock.

"Wait," Rick breathed, grabbing her wrist. "We shouldn't do this."

"Why not?" Michonne asked, giving his dick a light squeeze.

"Tomorrow," he said, at the same time rolling his tongue along that sensitive spot on her neck. "The proposal. We should wait."

Michonne chuckled. "It's not like this would be our first time."

Rick used the last of his resolve to remove her hand from his pants. "I want to do this right."

Michonne rolled her eyes. "I want you. What's wrong with that?"

"I want you to give me more than just your body, Michonne. I want your heart. I want you to want to marry me."

She moved away, taking her warmth with her. "What kind of game are you playing? You don't want to fuck me now?"

Rick cringed at her use of such an impersonal term. He'd never thought of their lovemaking as casual. "I think you're upset about your dad and this isn't the way to deal with those feelings."

From her expression, he could tell the mood had flown miles away, maybe never to be seen again.

"Fine," she said, snatching up a trench coat.

Rick bit his bottom lip, trying to keep himself from laying her on the bed and sinking his still hard cock into the warm paradise between her thighs. Her anger only made him want her more. But he needed to make sure she chose him for the right reasons and he didn't want sex to get in the way of that.

She slipped into black, four-inch Louboutins and passed him by without another glance. As she opened the door he said, "Tell me you trust me enough to choose me."

She stopped, her back to him. It felt like an eternity before she finally said, "Goodbye, Rick."

* * *

Michonne took another deep breath, hoping the crisp air would help to settle her nerves and her stomach.

She wanted to bury her head in the sand when she thought about the temper tantrum she'd pulled with Rick last night. But she'd been slightly drunk and extremely aroused and he'd had the gall to turn her down. It was only natural that she would fly into a horny rage.

Michonne ran her hands over the delicate embroidery of her ivory dress, the chiffon blowing lightly in the warm breeze. They were back at the mansion, where it had all started. She stood in the driveway, the same as the first night, awaiting the arrival of her future husband.

A black limo pulled up and Michonne tried to remember the cameras were on her, so she wouldn't completely lose it. The back door of the limo opened and Rick stepped out.

Tears welled in Michonne's eyes as she admired the man who'd won her heart. He wore a black wool tuxedo that fit his lean figure like a second skin. His blue eyes sparkled as he met her.

"You're so beautiful, Michonne," he said, almost in a whisper. His glassy eyes were full of admiration and a sprinkle of fear.

"You too." She hugged him, breathing in the aroma of wool and the spicy cologne she'd come to love.

Rick took both of her hands in his. "I've been the host of this show for thirteen years. I've seen the beginning and end of love and became even more of a skeptic after my own marriage failed. You changed everything for me."

Michonne let the tears flow, hoping her makeup could withstand the deluge. Rick bent down on one knee and removed a small black box from his pocket. He opened the box to reveal a sparkling diamond ring that had to be at least three carats.

"It took me a while to admit the real reason I wanted you on this show - I wanted you for myself. I've always wanted to be the man you chose to marry. You showed me the rules were worth breaking and being able to be here with you now, was worth the risk. You made me believe in true love again and I hope to do the same for you. Michonne, will you marry me?"

Overcome by his words, Michonne could only look down at him, taking in the sight of this man offering himself to her. "Rick, it's only ever been you. From the first day we met. I think we've always been destined for each other, but it took this show to finally bring us together. I want to build the rest of my life with the only man my heart responds to. I want a family with the man I love more than words can convey. Yes, I'll marry you."

Rick kissed her hand before sliding the ring onto her finger. He stood, taking her in her arms and kissing her like his life depended on it.

"I love you," he said, swiping away her tears.

"I love you too," she said, kissing him, wanting to taste him again. She lowered her voice, "And if you ever withhold that dick from me again, your ass is mine."

Rick chuckled. "Yes, ma'am. What's mine is yours."

* * *

 **A/N: Hope you enjoyed Richonne's journey as much as I did. Again, apologies for taking so long to get this one out. Hope to start a new story with these two soon 'cause I can't get enough of them. Thanks again for all the reviews, faves and follows!**


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